


Perfect Fit

by starseed



Category: Hanson (Band)
Genre: Accidental Erections, Alcohol, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Amusement Parks, Beginnings, Best Friends, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Caffeine Addiction, Desire, Falling In Love, Fantasizing, First Meetings, Forbidden Love, Grief/Mourning, Halloween, Hand Jobs, Loss of Parent(s), Lust, M/M, Massage, Masturbation, Multi, POV First Person, Party, Road Trips, Sexual Fantasy, Sibling Incest, Smoking, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Vacation, Voyeurism, accidental nudity, sinful feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-07-27 07:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 79,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16214375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starseed/pseuds/starseed
Summary: “People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

“You are _such_ a dork.” 

I shook my head in amusement as I watched him pick through the assortment of Halloween candy in the large bowl cradled in his lap. The task he was currently focused on was separating the candy corn from the pumpkins, but one glance at him might convince you that he was attempting to decode an advanced algorithm. Taylor had a habit of zoning in on whatever he was doing so completely that the rest of the world seemed to fade into the background.

“Well if I’m a dork, then I’m really interested to know what that makes _you_ ,” my older brother said calmly, plucking another artificial pumpkin from the pile and tossing it to me.

Without thinking, I popped it into my mouth and began to chew, not minding the taste of the mildly sweet, gummy treat but not exactly loving it either. Some might say they're exactly the same, but in my opinion Taylor was right—the pumpkins could never hold a candle to good, old-fashioned candy corn.

I scanned the page of the book I'd been trying to read to no avail for the last hour while a mindless sitcom lit up the television screen in front of us. It had become an annual Halloween tradition of sorts to stock up on loads of candy at Save-A-Lot and spend the rest of the night watching TV while stuffing our faces. It was a ritual that we'd started when our band was touring years ago, but it stretched into our adult lives as well. 

"Ike called earlier," I said, just remembering. "He wanted to wish me a happy birthday… nine days late. You know, I'm beginning to wonder, after all these years, if he even recalls when my actual birthday is?"

Isaac, our older brother and former bandmate, was more than a thousand miles away on the East Coast, where he lived in a crowded New York City apartment with his soon-to-be wife. There were moments when I missed him, but they were few and far between. I'd always been closer to Taylor. He wasn't just my sibling—he was my best friend. I'd never admitted this to anyone, but if Taylor had been the one to get engaged and move halfway across the country, I certainly wouldn't be faring as well as I was right now.

And for the record, Taylor would never forget my birthday.

"Better late than never, I guess," Taylor said through a mouthful of candy corn. 

How my brother made talking with his mouth full look endearing was beyond me—but I stopped trying to measure up to Taylor long ago. He was one of those people you wanted to hate because everything he touched turned to gold, because he was so fucking perfect all the time. 

But hating him was impossible because he was just so easy to love.

We continued our lazy snack-fest in comfortable silence until Taylor's cell phone rang. After a short conversation that mostly consisted of Taylor agreeing with whoever was on the other end, he hung up and turned to face me on the couch.

"That was Dana," he said, referring to our mutual friend who lived around the corner. "Some neighbors are throwing a Halloween party a few houses down, and she invited us to tag along."

"Do we have to?" I whined. 

Yes, even at twenty-two years of age, I was still in the habit of pouting whenever things didn't quite go my way.

"You don't have to do anything, but I told Dana I'd go," Taylor said. "I think she'll be happy if you decide to come along. Everyone knows that she's into you. Plus, it might be fun."

Ah, Taylor Hanson: the unfailing optimist.

I groaned and closed my book, knowing that if Taylor had already made up his mind about going then I really had no choice. Despite the fact that I was born so close to Halloween, I wasn't very fond of the holiday. Don't get me wrong—I love candy and scary movies and all that jazz—but I've never enjoyed dressing up and parading around in a ridiculous costume all night long. As a child, my mom had to practically force me into outfits when we went trick-or-treating as a family, and most of the time I only agreed to wear them because I knew that they were Taylor's hand-me-downs.

"Don't worry, she didn't say anything about it being a costume party," he said. Reading my mind was one of his many talents. "I'm sure some people will be dressed up, but most people there are probably just going to get wasted."

"Sounds like a blast," I muttered. 

Drinking really wasn't my thing, either. No matter how much alcohol I consumed, I never seemed to get drunk, so at parties I usually ended up watching everyone else make total fools of themselves while I wandered around in a painfully sober state.

"Come on, quit being such a buzzkill," Taylor said, standing up and lending me his hand to help me off the couch. "I'm gonna go change, and then we can head out."

I stood in the hallway and whistled a nameless tune as I waited for Taylor to finish getting ready. He got dressed in record time, but looked like he'd spent hours on his flawless appearance as he emerged from his bedroom wearing a pair of fitted jeans and a sea-colored sweater that made his blue eyes pop. He probably hadn't even bothered to comb his hair, yet the long blonde locks fell into place so perfectly. I suddenly felt like an ugly, oversized blob beside my brother as I glanced down at my own outfit, which consisted of a t-shirt, an unzipped hoodie, and a well-worn pair of Chucks. My thick, unruly hair no doubt was sticking up at every angle like it always was, and I knew that I was at least three months overdue for a haircut.

"You look fine," he assured me as he followed my gaze, stealing the thoughts from my head again. "Let's go."

We met Dana outside a few minutes later and walked through the crisp fall air to our neighbor's house. When we entered the party, Dana immediately grabbed my hand and steered me in the direction of the refreshments. Taylor raised his eyebrow at me and shrugged in an innocently helpless fashion, but there was a small smirk playing on his lips the whole time. He really enjoyed watching me squirm and barely tried to hide it.

Despite my attempts to stay by his side, I soon lost sight of Taylor and was forced into spending a good portion of the evening with Dana and her friends. Her flirtatious, borderline-desperate attitude was not lost on me, but I pretended to notice nothing out of the ordinary as I continued to sip on lukewarm beer from a red plastic cup. 

"So, Zac, tell me something…" Dana slurred after taking another tequila shot, slinging an arm around my shoulder while simultaneously using my body for support. "Why is it that you and that pretty brother of yours don't have girlfriends?"

The question shocked me into silence. Given her obvious intoxication, I'd been expecting something far less lucid to escape her mouth. But I guess alcohol was only known to make certain people stupid; others became more brilliant.

"I… I don't know," I said. 

In fact, I _did_ know, but the reason was something I wasn't even ready to admit to myself, let alone to Dana and her effervescent group of girlfriends.

"It's a shame," she shook her head, her long hair falling forward into her eyes and trying to take her entire body down with it. Struggling against gravity, she swayed and grabbed my arm to steady herself. "Letting such good looks go to waste."

I shrugged off the blatant compliment but couldn't stop the blush from spreading across my face. 

Maybe Taylor was right and she did have a thing for me—or maybe it was a side effect of the alcohol. Either way, I was feeling increasingly more uncomfortable by the second and found myself regretting my decision to have come to the party. As Dana and her friends got ready for another round of shots, I finally managed to slip away, darting through the crowd before anyone could comment on my absence.

When I reached a fairly secluded spot, I leaned against the wall and continued to drink my beer, wondering when I should just give up and call it a night. Taylor had probably hit it off with a number of random people by now. Strangers always gravitated toward him, were intrigued by him, wanted to get to know him. I certainly couldn't deny his magnetic energy, feeling pulled in by the force of it for nearly my entire life.

"Boo!"

A familiar pair of hands acted as a blindfold across my eyes and the world went dark for several moments. Soon, the hands were gone and Taylor was standing in front of me with a goofy grin on his face, clearly pleased by the idea of spooking me.

He really was such a dork. 

"Whatcha doing in the corner all alone?" he asked.

Taylor's eyes sparkled with curious concern as they washed over me. He had this way of staring at me so intensely, like I was the only person in the world who existed. Like I was the only one who mattered. The blush from Dana's comment barely had time to fade before it was back in full force, burning across my cheeks with a different sort of fire this time. I quickly buried my nose in my cup and downed the rest of my beer, hoping to blame any unusual redness on the alcohol.

"Waiting for you," I said quietly, honestly.

He cocked his head at me and pursed his lips while a thoughtful silence spanned the shallow space between us. Then, a glimmer of realization flashed through his blue eyes and my heart nearly stopped inside of my chest. 

I knew Taylor was good at reading me, but was he really _that_ good? Was one glance at me during a moment of weakness enough to reveal my deepest, darkest secret?

"Well, lucky for you, you don't have to wait anymore," he said, his raspy voice alive with musical tones, as though he were singing instead of speaking. 

He threaded his arm through mine and we exited the party side-by-side, our bodies a perfect fit. 

I took a deep, rewarding breath of the sweet night air as I walked home with my brother. My best friend. The only person I've ever truly loved.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

I wasn’t a morning person, but my brother Taylor was. 

He’d been that way for as long as I could remember. To this day, I still had no clue if the bright smile he flashed at me each and every morning was a mere byproduct of caffeine or if he really _was_ just that happy. Truthfully, I didn’t much care. All that mattered was that I was greeted with a pair of clear blue eyes and a wide grin that always managed to turn my bad days around before they even had a chance to start.

That particular Saturday morning was no exception as Taylor flitted around the kitchen in nothing but a pair of sweatpants that he wore like they were the classiest piece of clothing in his wardrobe. He held his Oklahoma City Thunder coffee mug in one hand and a spatula in the other, humming ‘Cruel to be Kind’ under his breath while he cooked. He looked so wonderfully ridiculous that I couldn’t help laughing as I walked by him to pour myself some coffee.

I was still full from the lavish meal of homemade lasagna and garlic bread that my brother had whipped up for dinner the night before, but the mouth-watering aroma of bacon and eggs effectively overruled my earlier decision to forgo breakfast.

I sipped my coffee thoughtfully as I watched my brother cook, knowing better than to offer any assistance. Attempting to help Taylor in the kitchen was like an amateur artist lending a hand to Picasso. If I interfered, I’d wind up ruining the masterpiece.

When the bacon was perfectly cooked and the scrambled eggs were just the way we liked them (fluffy with the slightest hint of brown along the edges), Taylor stepped aside and let me divide the food into two equal helpings. I let him cook for me, but I wasn’t about to put up with being waited on. After all, serving people was what he did for a living now, and while he claimed to love his job at Fleming’s—an upscale steakhouse in Utica Square—I knew it took a toll on him. 

His features were still practically perfect, but over the last two years, signs of age had crept in and stained the otherwise flawless portrait of fortunate genetics. He wasn’t blind to the wrinkles that formed by the corners of his eyes when he smiled. He had a nervous habit of rubbing the taut skin around his temples as if hoping to smooth out the lines with his own bare hands. 

He was doing it right now, in fact, dragging his fingers up his cheeks and into his hair, where he toyed with several messy strands. He still hadn’t touched his breakfast. For all of the food that Taylor lovingly prepared day in and day out, he hardly ever ate any of it. I was baffled by his strong-willed resistance, wondering how on earth he managed to hold back when it always tasted so damn good, but then again, maybe that was why he looked the way he did and conversely, why _I_ looked the way _I_ did. 

While I didn’t hate my physical appearance, I certainly wasn’t thrilled with the extra weight I carried around my midsection. I didn’t even care to be as thin as Taylor, but I knew my body would benefit greatly from regular trips to the gym. But I’d let my fitness center membership expire and hadn’t yet found the motivation to exercise on my own.

My coworker, Andie, didn’t help matters; a baker’s daughter, she routinely brought homemade muffins and scones into Starship Records at least twice a week, and I could never turn them down. Snacking on the job was frowned upon, but the rules at my workplace were flimsy at best, and I often caught my own boss indulging in one or two sugary treats when he thought no one else was looking.

Andie was a sweetheart and always took care to set aside a few blueberry muffins for me to take home to Taylor. My brother’s weaknesses were few and far between, but those muffins were at the very top of the list, and I couldn’t deny myself the delight of watching him eat them. He nibbled at them slowly, savoring each and every morsel, his tongue sweeping across his lips almost obsessively to make sure not a crumb was left behind.

“They taste just like the ones Mom used to make, don’t they?” he once asked me after swallowing his last treasured bite.

“Yeah,” I had answered, smiling sadly. 

Our mother passed away of ovarian cancer two years ago. Her battle with the illness was short compared to most; by the time she showed any warning signs and the doctors detected the abnormal cells, it was too late—the disease had already spread to her stomach and brain and she deteriorated quickly, right before our very eyes. 

Our band took a break from practicing and performing in the agonizing months surrounding her death. Our parents had been so involved in our musical career that it seemed like a dishonor to her memory to go on without her; at least, it felt that way at first. There were times in the months that followed when Taylor hesitantly brought up the idea of making music again. He saw it as a healthy outlet, a way for us to cope with losing half of the pair who had made us, but in the end, we didn’t have the heart to continue. 

Nor did our father have the heart to stay in Tulsa without her. 

Our parents had been high school sweethearts, and those who had known them since adolescence always referred to them as a unit. They were Walker and Diana or, more affectionately, “Walk and Di.” One didn’t make sense without the other, and our dad couldn’t cope with the fact that she was gone. So he bought a small condo in Tucson, Arizona and packed up only the most essential of his belongings before he fled, leaving the rest of our family’s history with us. 

In a matter of months, Isaac left, too. For seven years while our band toured, Ike had done the whole long-distance thing with his long-time girlfriend, Claire, but our mother’s rather sudden death had urged him to seize the day and start the rest of his life with her while he still had the chance. 

Taylor and I were thus left to fend for ourselves in our childhood home.

It was a strange, painful transition but over time, we fell into a mostly peaceful rhythm. The four-bedroom house offered more space than we knew what to do with, but neither of us ever spoke of selling it. We couldn’t put a price on the precious memories made in our makeshift studio in the garage, where we’d played our first chords and sung our first notes.

And we couldn’t bear to part with our mother, whose essence lingered in every room.

Our friends often asked us why we bothered working at all when our band had made us enough money to live comfortably off of. The truth was that even though I loved being lazy, I couldn’t fathom sitting around the house all day feeling sorry for myself, so shortly after our dad and Ike moved out, I’d walked into my favorite record store with the intention of just browsing but had left that same afternoon with a job application tucked into my back pocket. 

My job at Starship Records was simply something to do to pass the time until I decided on my next move, but Taylor’s vision had much more definition and direction. His dream was to eventually open his own restaurant, but he knew that he needed to better understand the intimate workings of the industry before he jumped right into it. 

“Zac?” Taylor dangled a strip of bacon in front of my face to grab my attention.

“What?” I snatched the crispy slice of meat from his outstretched hand and popped it into my mouth, swallowing my bittersweet nostalgia.

“Do you have any vacation days saved up?”

“Yeah, I have about a week, I think. Why?”

“Well, Dana called last night after you went to bed, and–,”

“Doesn’t that girl have anything better to do than to bother you at all hours of the day and night?”

He laughed. “I guess not. Anyway, you know how Jeremy left her with that big RV?”

I nodded. Dana’s most recent loser ex-boyfriend got into a pretty serious drug-related mess a few months ago and ended up skipping town, leaving his trailer in her possession indefinitely. I’d heard the story so many times that I probably could have recited it from memory.

“Well, she’s planning on taking this huge road trip to Disney World next week, and since she’s too afraid to fly, she’s taking the camper. A bunch of her other friends were supposed to go with her, but apparently two of them backed out at the last minute. So she called me up and invited us along.”

“She wants to _drive_ all the way from Tulsa to Orlando?” I asked through a mouthful of eggs.

Taylor smirked at my reaction. “You act like you’ve never been on a long drive before.”

“I’ve never been on a long drive that was actually _fun_ before,” I shot back. “Come to think of it, they’re usually terrifying.”

He rolled his eyes. 

“Tay, need I remind you of that gig we played in Montreal?” I asked with a shudder. “I watched you fall asleep at the wheel not once, not twice, but three times on the way there—in an ice storm, no less. You nearly killed us all!”

“Now you’re just being dramatic.” He shook his head, although the guilty glimmer in his eyes led me to believe that he knew exactly what I was referring to. “But if it makes you feel better, I promise not to drive at all this time.”

“I don’t know…”

Dana may have had a crush on me, like Taylor said, but her bond with my brother was much stronger. Taylor was a natural when it came to most things, and it seemed that he was born with the innate ability to be the perfect friend. Where I came across as sarcastic, immature, and blunt to a fault, Taylor was kind, caring, and amazingly tolerant. I hadn’t yet met anyone who wasn’t drawn to him in one way or another. I wasn’t jealous of him, though; I was thankful. His effortless charm helped me out of more sticky situations than I ever hoped to count. 

Still, while I’d known Dana for years, I wasn’t sure that I liked her or her friends enough to spend an entire vacation trapped in close quarters with them.

“Oh, c’mon, Zac.” He heaved a small sigh, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “Dana works her ass off at two terrible jobs. She deserves a getaway. Plus, there’s a food and wine festival going on in Epcot right now that’s supposed to be amazing. And can you even remember the last time we took a trip just for fun?”

I couldn’t say no—not to eyes so big and blue and pleading. He knew that I always gave in to him, but I made him wait for my answer as I chewed the last remaining bites of my breakfast.

“Okay, I’ll go… but only on one condition.”

“What’s that?” He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me.

“If I agree to go on this crazy trip, then _you_ have to agree to ride the Tower of Terror with me. Deal?”

My older brother’s already pale skin blanched, turning a starchy shade of white. He’d accomplished many things in his twenty-four years, but he hadn’t managed to overcome his overwhelming fear of heights.

Was I a sick and twisted individual for wanting to witness the look on his face as he endured those torturous, staggering drops in a claustrophobic elevator car? Possibly.

But hey, I never claimed to be anything close to an angel.

A wave of uncertainty flashed through his eyes as he drained the last of his coffee, but it was quickly replaced by his typical sense of composure. Taylor and I were different in so many ways, but we shared one common trait: we never backed down from a challenge.

“Deal,” he finally declared, shaking my hand to seal the agreement because he was just such a _dork_ like that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

How anyone managed to wake up in the morning—even with an alarm—was beyond me.

Hell, even when I relied on a whole team of them, I still managed to sleep right through them. The previous night, I’d set a total of five cell phone alarms to ensure that I got up on time, but I remained dead to the world until I heard my brother’s voice ringing through my otherwise silent bedroom.

“I should have known better than to ever expect you to be up and ready to go before 8 AM,” Taylor remarked with a laugh, smoothing a hand across his damp golden locks. 

His eyes drifted to my oversized duffel bag, which sat in a heap in the middle of my bedroom floor. It was still completely empty, but hey, at least I’d remembered to pull it out of my closet the night before. That’s gotta count for something, right?

“I’m up,” I muttered indignantly before falling back against the pillows, silencing the urge to ask him if it was too late to back out of the trip altogether. 

Taylor approached the edge of the bed and peeled away the covers in one quick motion.

“Oh my God…” He froze, the blankets still clutched in his hand as he stared down at my naked body.

I didn’t blush easily, but my cheeks were definitely burning as his eyes roamed across my bare skin. With a dexterity I didn’t typically possess (especially not that early in the morning), I secured the sheets around the lower half of my body and struggled to sit up. 

It wasn’t like he’d never seen me without any clothes before—being in a band with my brothers meant that we were forced to leave modesty behind as we faced all sorts of cramped dressing room and tour bus situations—but he’d never seen me like _this._ A certain raging hormonal issue plagued me in the morning, and I was sure that he’d gotten a generous eyeful of it. If it had been anyone else, I would have tried to make a joke and laugh it off, but something about the way Taylor’s steady gaze held mine made my heart rate quicken and my mouth go dry. 

“I’ll call Dana and let her know we’re running a little late,” he said, his voice thick and raspy as it always was before he’d had his coffee.

“Thanks.”

Once he left the room, I released a shaky breath and let go of the sheets I’d gathered in a stronghold.

“Damn you. You’re always getting me into trouble,” I mumbled to my stubborn nether region as I pulled myself out of bed and tried to ease my frazzled nerves while tugging on the closest pair of boxers I could find, hoping that they were at least relatively clean. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

“Ooh, what did you bring me?” Dana’s pursed lips widened to reveal an eager smile as she eyed the containers of food in Taylor’s arms. 

“Just some snacks for the road,” he said, shifting his duffel bag to balance his weight as he climbed the shallow set of stairs leading into the trailer. 

“Holy crap! You really cleaned the place up,” I commented, Taylor nodding his agreement by my side.

The state of Jeremy’s trailer when he left town was horrifyingly disgusting at best. The entire camper had been littered with cigarette butts, half-eaten fast food meals, and other signs of utter carelessness, but Dana had clearly made it her mission to rid the vehicle of its seemingly permanent layers of grime and debris. The end result was a practically spotless cabin, the wooden surfaces newly polished, the off-white upholstered furniture void of the stains and burn marks that had marred it just a few weeks ago.

“Yeah, it took a lot of work, but I refused to take a trip in a drug-infested shithole,” she remarked with more than a hint of bitterness. “Why don’t you set your bags down and I’ll give you the grand tour?”

Taylor heaved his duffel bag onto the large luggage rack and moved aside so I could do the same.

The RV was far from luxurious, but all in all, it really wasn’t all that bad. 

In fact, it was much nicer than I’d expected, probably due to the fact that it was actually clean and no longer covered in trash. Toward the back was the “bedroom,” which was really just a curtained-off section where a mattress was wedged tightly between the walls. Then came the bathroom, complete with a toilet and a claustrophobic shower stall. We were reminded at least three times by Dana to never, ever flush toilet paper and I snorted at the stern, repetitive warning. I certainly had no trouble abiding by that rule, but I had a feeling that she would end up breaking it before the day was over. 

The main area of the cabin featured a kitchenette, a couch, and a fold-out table flanked by two large chairs. A flat screen TV was mounted above the couch, and behind it was a small alcove that was likely meant for storage, but Dana explained that it could also be used as a makeshift bed. 

“A bed? Really?” My disbelieving eyes searched the narrow nook above, wondering how on earth a person could actually fit up there.

“Yes, and I hate to break it to you, but one of you will be sleeping there.”

I snorted again.

“Sorry, but Amy and I already claimed the bedroom,” Dana said with a shrug. “So one of you boys gets the bunk up there, and the other one gets the couch.”

“I’m beginning to understand why your other friends bailed on you,” I muttered under my breath as I sank down into a chair.

“Who’s Amy?” Taylor asked, glossing over my rude remark although I knew he’d heard me.

“Oh, she’s my cousin who decided to tag along. She lives out in Fort Smith, so we’ll have to pick her up on the way.”

“How are we handling the driving?” Taylor slipped into the seat across from me and shook the hair out of his face.

I marveled at how awake he looked. He’d been up until 2 AM making marble cupcakes and our mom’s famous homemade trail mix and was just as sleep deprived as I was, yet he appeared completely alert and refreshed, his blue eyes bright and alive. I, on the other hand, was still so exhausted that I probably could have fallen asleep while sitting up. Maybe I shouldn’t have given him so much shit about the Montreal incident after all. 

Then again, Taylor had always functioned better on little sleep than Isaac and me. Our touring days had called for many early mornings, and on most of them I’d been too tired and drained to form a coherent thought and Ike had been able to offer nothing more than sleepy one-word responses. But not Taylor, No, he had no trouble winning the affection of the interviewer or local radio announcer as he spoke passionately about our band’s latest endeavor. 

“I’ll drive until we get to Amy’s house, and then she’ll take over until we reach Birmingham. Are you guys okay with splitting up the rest of the drive? I hate to leave you with the graveyard shift, but I have awful night vision.”

“That’s fine. We’re used to it,” Taylor said.

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.” 

She ruffled my brother’s hair and placed a light kiss by his temple, right beside his worry lines, and I redirected my eyes to the tabletop. Then she gave me a few gentle pats on the head before walking past us and buckling herself into the driver’s seat. 

“Who’s up for a trip to Starbucks before we officially get this show on the road?” she asked, flicking her long mane of hair behind her shoulders.

Over the years, Starbucks had become more of a daily habit than a novelty, yet Taylor’s eyes lit up like he was about to experience his very first trip to the commercialized coffee shop. I bit back a sarcastic comment and merely smiled across the table, wondering if he knew how adorable he was. 

I always got the same exact thing at Starbucks, so I let Taylor place my order and joined Dana, who was cradling a steaming latte at a corner table. Taylor was engaged in small talk with the barista and was leaning slightly forward, his palms pressed flat against the counter as he spoke. His position gave the entire café a generous view of his jean-clad backside, but I hadn’t fully realized that I was staring until Dana cleared her throat and diverted my attention from the captivating scene. 

“Hey, I don’t blame you,” she said after blowing thin puffs of air across her drink to cool it. “Even if he were my brother, I’d still want to rip his clothes off and do all sorts of–,”

“Here you go,” Taylor cut in, setting my usual caramel frappuccino down in front of me. He sat down with his own drink in hand, a confused smile on his lips as he glanced between us. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“You,” came Dana’s breezy reply, her dark eyes sparkling. 

He raised his eyebrows but didn’t press the issue any further, content to sip his coffee quietly. 

Meanwhile, I twirled my straw through the thick layers of whipped topping and tried to ignore the shameful feelings coursing through my veins. They’d been living inside of me for years, but I’d only just begun to make sense of them, and now that they were starting to take shape and propel me along, I was afraid that I was headed straight for hell.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

There was something distinctly bittersweet about leaving, I realized, watching the clusters of tall buildings fade into the distance as we sped along the highway. 

Tulsa wasn’t the most glamorous city in the world, but it was home, and I always managed to miss it whenever I was away. Yet as bizarre as this vacation was bound to be, I couldn’t deny the fact that I was looking forward to getting away for a little while. Like Taylor pointed out earlier, it had been far too long since either of us had taken a trip just for the fun of it.

“So, tell me about Amy,” Taylor said as he stretched his legs out so that they touched the couch, his eyes latched onto the retreating skyline.

“She’s a really cool girl. I think you’ll like her. And I think that Zac will _love_ her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“Well, I’m clearly not doing it for you, but maybe Amy will be more your style. She’s tall and has a pretty face, big boobs, gorgeous blue eyes, and legs that go on for miles…”

“What makes you think you’re an expert on my ‘style’?” I grumbled, using air quotes even though I knew she couldn’t see me.

“Oh, I’m no expert, but I think I’m beginning to figure you out.”

“Would you kindly stop harassing my brother?”

Taylor’s tone was light, but beneath it was a weight that surprised me. His face was unreadable, his features caught somewhere between a smile and a frown as he continued to watch the sky.

“Aw, I didn’t realize baby brother here was so sensitive,” Dana cooed mockingly.

I scowled and flicked my middle finger into the air—yet another gesture that was lost on her.

And all of a sudden, the disturbingly heavy trance that Taylor seemed caught up in was broken and he laughed, ducking his head and leaning across the table toward me as though to impart a precious secret. 

“Don’t mind Dana. When she hasn’t gotten laid in awhile, she tends to be a pretty huge bitch,” he whispered loudly, emphasizing the last word.

“Fuck you both,” she declared.

“Wouldn’t you like to be so lucky?” 

Taylor smirked at my retort, his gaze shifting back toward the window. When Tom Petty’s crooning voice filled the air a few moments later, I knew that it was meant to drown us out. But if this wasn’t a road trip song, then I didn’t know what was—and there was no way in hell I wasn’t singing along.

_All the vampires walking through the valley  
Move west down Ventura Boulevard  
All the bad boys are standing in the shadows  
All the good girls are home with broken hearts_

_And I'm freeeee, free fallin'…  
Yeah I'm freeeee, free fallin'…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

We picked up Amy in Fort Smith, Arkansas shortly after 11 AM. 

As Dana slowed the trailer to a stop in the middle of the long, narrow driveway, Taylor and I moved to the couch and together, we took in the sprawling landscape all around us. The trees that flanked the house were rich with colorful leaves—in a few short weeks, they would be bare, but it was a rare treat to see them at their peak. For some people, the changing leaves in autumn were silly, childish, not worthy of a second glance or thought, but for me, they were reminders to seize the day and never take life for granted. 

However, the girl who approached in a form-fitting green camo jacket and knee high boots, her wavy blonde hair falling into her face at just the perfect angle, stood out against the brilliant foliage and made the lush fall leaves look lifeless in comparison. 

Dana hadn’t been kidding; her cousin was drop dead gorgeous.

Taylor’s eyes were glued to the scene as well, although I wasn’t sure why he looked so awestruck. Surely, he caught glimpses of himself in the mirror every day and knew how beautiful _he_ was. Didn’t being hot dull a person’s own reaction to other people’s hotness?

“AMES!” Dana's cries cut through the air as she unlatched the door to let her in.

I turned around just in time to see Amy climb the steps leading into the RV, her fair cheeks painted with dots of crimson. Her eyes met mine for a brief moment before darting back to her cousin, who wasted no time in tossing her suitcase to the floor and wrapping her in an airtight embrace.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Dana said once she finally pulled away, brushing long strands of hair from her cousin’s eyes. “How have you been?”

“Busy, but good,” she replied.

Her voice was much softer than Dana’s—in fact, although she was much taller than her cousin, Amy’s entire presence seemed kinder and easier to manage. She was like a breath of fresh air, whereas Dana was an annoying tickle in your throat that you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried.

“I’m so glad you decided to come! If it weren’t for you, I’d be stuck with these two assholes for a whole week by myself.”

I frowned at the way she’d chosen to introduce us, but of course Taylor (forever the peacemaker) simply smiled and stood from the couch, offering his hand to Amy.

“Hi, I’m Taylor, and that’s my brother, Zac. Don’t listen to your cousin, though. We aren’t assholes—at least not all the time.”

“Speak for yourself,” I mumbled under my breath.

“I’m Amy.” She shook his hand with a timid smile of her own. “It’s nice to meet you.”

When her gaze shifted over to me again, I gave her a small, awkward wave, unwilling to get up and go through another version of the exchange that I’d just witnessed. Taylor took her bag and hoisted it onto the luggage rack before joining me on the couch again. Chivalry came naturally to him, but it had always been a struggle for me to look out for anyone but myself.

“Nice boots,” Taylor commented, although in my opinion, it was her legs (which were bare beneath the short dress she was wearing) that deserved the compliment.

“Thanks.” She blushed, adding to the rosy hue that lit up her features. “I really like your scarf.”

He glanced down and fingered the red-and-tan scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, and I fought the urge to scoot in a bit closer. There was something about Taylor—something delicate, pure, and inarguably desirable—that made me want to claim him so that no one else could have him.

But that wasn’t right; I couldn’t own him. He was my _brother_. So instead, I bowed my head and hooked my thumb through the hole in my jeans, picking at the fraying seam.

With an amused grin, Dana leaned in and whispered something into her cousin’s ear that neither one of us could hear, turning Amy’s face an even darker shade of red. Then she took Amy on a tour of the camper, similar to the one she’d given us back in Tulsa.

Taylor’s attention drifted back to the alluring scenery outside, but my eyes were stuck on the girls as they wandered through the cabin. Like Dana had predicted, I was certainly attracted to her tow-headed cousin, but I wasn’t drawn to her just because of her glowing good looks. No, my fascination stemmed from the almost uncanny similarities between her and my brother. Not only were they both tall and lean with startlingly beautiful eyes and heads of hair, they even had almost the same way of speaking and carrying themselves. 

Maybe that was why Taylor had seemed so shocked when he first saw her. Looking at Amy was probably much like staring at his own reflection, only to realize that some of the most essential pieces didn’t quite match up.

When they walked by us again, Dana knocked into my legs with force and almost made me drop the Starbucks cup I was still holding.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice lacking all hints of true remorse. 

Amy, however, lingered behind and did seem genuinely apologetic for her cousin’s rude behavior. Her eyes stayed locked with mine for several long moments, but before she could speak, Dana beckoned her to the front of the trailer.

Before I could process what had just happened, Amy settled into the driver’s seat, Dana turned up the radio, and we were on our way.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

The first few hours passed by remarkably quickly. 

I found that due to sheer adrenaline, the beginning stages of long drives were always the most tolerable, and this road trip was no exception to that rule. As we drove along the boring (albeit bumpy) roads, we talked, we feasted on the snacks Taylor had lovingly prepared, and we sang. 

Over the last few years, I’d nearly forgotten how much I enjoyed singing just for the hell of it. Music had been my job for so long that it was admittedly strange to reduce it to a hobby, but maybe it was better this way. Maybe we had made the right decision by pushing our old career to the sidelines and pursuing other dreams.

I looked over at Taylor to see if he felt the same way, but his eyes were closed. His mouth was still moving along with the familiar words to U2’s ‘Beautiful Day.’ I knew that he wasn’t asleep, but he looked so peaceful that I didn’t dare interrupt him.

Somewhere around 4 PM, our voices faded into the background and we let the steady hum of the engine replace our once animated conversation. Taylor’s head was buried in _The Cider House Rules_ , his eyes devouring the words on the pages of his latest novel of choice like they were the last things on earth he’d ever see.

I’d packed several of my own books in my duffel bag, but I didn’t feel much like reading. Despite all of the caffeine in my system thanks to the huge frappuccino I’d just polished off, I was feeling more and more lethargic by the second. I tried to fight the strong pulls of fatigue by keeping my eyes trained on the portrait of concrete and clouds through the window, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I lost that battle. 

I vaguely remember my eyelids drooping, my chin falling against my chest, and Taylor prying the Starbucks cup from my hand, but everything after that was a blur.

I was pulled back into consciousness by a familiar scent. It was tangy, earthy, and delicious, and I dragged my fingers blindly through the air to locate its source. I was still surfacing from the murky haze particular to spontaneous slumber, so the world around me wasn’t quite in focus yet, but when my thumb grazed the smooth skin of my brother’s jaw, my senses came rushing back to me.

I sat up quickly, my own jaw dropping open in a mixture of shock and horror when I realized that I’d been sleeping in Taylor’s lap, my head practically buried in his crotch.

I tried to remain calm, but it wasn’t long before my thoughts were spinning into overdrive. Taylor and I were close, but we weren’t _that_ close, and there were certain parts of his body I avoided like the plague.

It wasn’t that he scared me—it was that I was beginning to scare myself and was truly afraid of what I might say or do when caught in a moment of weakness. My heart was hammering so loudly in my chest that I was sure everyone in the trailer could hear its wild and frantic beats, but Taylor didn’t seem the least bit fazed. He continued reading in silence, his foot tapping lightly against the floor every so often.

“Tay?”

He glanced up, his blue eyes catching the vibrant beams of sunlight that poured in from outside. They were so clear and striking that I actually forgot how to breathe, returning to reality only when he gave my knee a gentle nudge.

“Where are we?” I eventually managed to croak out.

After wedging his thumb between the pages of his book to create a temporary placeholder, he craned his neck and looked out across the wide expanse of highway. 

Honestly, I didn’t care where we were. What I really wanted to ask was, _Why did you let me sleep in that position?_ , but I already knew the answer to that. 

Last fall, we went out to Arizona to visit our dad, and because I hadn’t checked the weather before we left, I failed to pack anything warmer than t-shirts. As my luck would have it, I came down with a terrible sinus infection a few days into the trip, and to make matters worse, a violent cold front swept across the west. Unlike me, Taylor was sufficiently prepared just as he always was, and he made me wear his jacket along with one of his scarves whenever we left the house and ventured out into the shockingly bitter evening air. He didn’t care that I coughed and sneezed all over the expensive leather, or that I'd wiped my nose on his favorite scarf on more than one occasion. Likewise, he probably didn’t care that I’d been using his strong thigh muscles as a makeshift pillow for the last several hours.

That was just the type of person he was.

“We just crossed over into Jasper,” Amy responded quietly.

“Want to stop for something to eat once we get to Birmingham? We should be there in about an hour.”

As Dana spoke, she parted the thin curtain that now separated her and Amy from the rest of the cabin. I had no idea when that partition had been placed between us, but I hoped like hell it was sometime before I’d fallen asleep in my older brother’s lap.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Taylor said.

“I could go for pizza… no, chicken wings.” Dana’s eyebrows furrowed as she argued with herself. “Or maybe just a big ol’ Caesar salad…”

I didn’t even need to use the bathroom, but as everyone else discussed where to stop for dinner, I made my way to the cramped sanctuary and locked myself inside, leaning my head against the back of the door with a sigh.

 _So you fell asleep and happened to land on Taylor. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s normal… it could have happened to anyone_ , came my inner voice of reason.

But just how _normal_ was the growing erection fighting against the fabric of my jeans, making them almost unbearably tight?

Unfortunately, that was another question I already knew the answer to.

“Zac, are you in the mood for pizza?” Taylor’s raspy voice carried through the door and into my ear, making me shiver even though the tiny room was unfathomably warm and stuffy.

 _Oh, I’m in the mood, all right_ , I thought bitterly as I glanced down at the noticeable bulge in my pants.

After taking a few deep breaths and resituating myself, I exited the bathroom and was careful to keep my distance this time by sliding into the chair on the opposite side of the trailer.

“Pizza sounds great,” I finally answered, my tone casual and light—the exact opposite of how I was feeling.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

As Dana predicted, we arrived in Birmingham, Alabama within the hour. 

Parking a trailer in any downtown area was no easy feat—I had learned that the hard way in our touring days—but Amy surprised us all by making it look easy. She not only found a parking space to accommodate the oversized vehicle, but she also maneuvered into it without incident. And the fortuitous parking spot just so happened to be right around the corner from our dinner destination, Mellow Mushroom.

The place was virtually empty, so I didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty when our small group made ourselves at home in the largest booth in the restaurant. When Taylor climbed in beside me before I had a chance to slide the rest of the way in, his leg brushed against my forearm, causing me to suck in a breath as every single one of my nerve endings exploded at the subtle contact.

 _Fuck_ , I swore silently, disturbed by my body’s reaction. _Is this really how it’s going to be from now on?_

“This place looks good. I’ve never been here before,” Dana commented as she began scanning the menu.

“Oh, Mellow Mushroom isn’t just good. It’s the _best_. You’re going to love it,” Amy gushed, her face reddening slightly once she realized that her excited outburst had captured not only our undivided attention, but that of the waiter who had just approached our table. 

She may have been embarrassed, but I found it adorable. Taylor was the same way. He was typically soft-spoken, but when he felt passionately about something, his voice adopted a higher volume and intensity, the words tumbling out of his mouth of their own accord.

“You should try the white pizza. It’s incredible,” Taylor chimed in, although I knew that his heart was already set on our usual order: a large ‘Mighty Meaty’ pizza with hot pepper flakes and extra bacon.

After a short-lived debate, the girls heeded his advice and decided to split a white pizza. Since we hadn’t stopped for lunch (using Starbucks drinks, cupcakes and trail mix as substitutes for proper sustenance), we were absolutely famished, but luckily it wasn’t long before our food arrived. The waiter, clearly amused, grinned at us as we dug in. 

“This really hits the spot,” Taylor practically groaned in pleasure after swallowing the last of his meat-laden slice. 

I glanced over at him between bites and noticed that he had a light dusting of marinara sauce along his bottom lip. My mouth watered at the sight and I was struck with an almost overwhelming urge to lean over and lick it off, imagining how soft and supple his skin would feel against my tongue once I’d lapped up the spicy pizza sauce.

But no… NO! That was just all kinds of wrong.

I hastily crammed another huge slice into my mouth in the hopes of shoving all inappropriate thoughts of my brother out of my twisted brain, but instead I ended up choking on a mouthful of cheese and sausage. Taylor’s hand rubbing soothing circles up and down my back as I coughed and sputtered didn’t help matters any. In fact, his calming gesture was swiftly turning my little problem into a much bigger one, and I clumsily arranged a napkin across my lap to hide the evidence.

“So, how do you all know each other?” Amy asked. “I mean, I know you guys are brothers, but how did you meet Dana?”

“Our mothers were longtime friends from church. Their mom, Diana, was the choir director and mine was the organist,” Dana explained through a mouthful of crust. 

She searched Taylor’s face briefly and he raised his eyebrows at her before giving her a gentle nod. Meanwhile, I kept my eyes trained on both of them, very much intrigued by the silent conversation unfolding in the midst of our audible one. When she continued, she directed the words to Amy, her tone much more subdued and thoughtful than it had been all day—or at any point in recent memory, for that matter.

“Mrs. Hanson—Diana, she insisted I call her by her first name from day one—was pretty much a lifesaver when my dad left. After he moved out without warning, my mom fell into a deep depression and refused to get out of bed. Her sister had just passed away a few months before that, and she was still grieving; she couldn’t deal with losing her husband, too. I did what I could to help her, but I was only twelve at the time. I didn’t know _how_ to help. Diana came over almost every day—sometimes to give my mom a shoulder to cry on, sometimes to cook dinner for us or help me with my homework, sometimes just to spend time with me. She always made sure that we were taken care of. She always listened to me and was always so positive; she gave me a reason to smile when I felt like doing anything but smiling.” She paused then, her lips curling upward in fond remembrance. “Eventually, she even convinced my mom to sell the house and make a fresh start in a condo that was up for sale in her neighborhood.”

Tears gathered in her eyes and she blotted them with her napkin before sending a sad smile across the table to Taylor and me. 

“My mom really lucked out by finding a friend like her. I’m not sure either one of us would have survived without her.”

I blinked through my own thin haze of unshed tears to stare at her incredulously, and then I turned to Taylor. I had no idea that our mother had played such a key role in Dana’s childhood, but the look on Taylor’s face let me know that he was already familiar with the story. I wondered what else we’d missed out on getting to know about our mom during the years we’d been on tour without her.

I also wondered what else I had yet to learn about Dana.

In all the years I’d known her, she’d never brought up her father abandoning her family. She had never mentioned him at all. But maybe a road trip was the perfect setting for her to finally open up about her troubled past. Maybe being in such close quarters made us all a bit more willing to talk about things we wouldn’t normally share with each other.

“Wow. Your mom sounds like an amazing woman.” Surprisingly enough, it was Amy who broke the silence, her kind eyes holding mine.

“She really was.”

My response sounded much darker than I’d intended. All eyes were on me now, and I slowly set down my half-eaten slice of pizza, no longer as eager to devour it as I had been only moments before. 

It wasn’t that Taylor and I minded discussing our mother’s death (it was never a fun conversation, don’t get me wrong, but we’d come to terms with having it from time to time). It was that the topic tended to make other people feel uncomfortable, which in turn made _us_ feel uncomfortable, which was why we all suddenly busied ourselves with random tasks to avoid speaking. Taylor fiddled with his napkin, Amy traced aimless patterns along the tabletop with a manicured finger, and Dana took loud gulps of sweet tea as I dug at the growing hole in the leg of my jeans. 

“Can I interest anyone in a refill?”

God bless our waiter and his impeccable timing.

We pushed our empty glasses toward him gratefully, seeming to breathe a collective sigh of relief at the much-needed interruption.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

After paying for my portion of the meal, I really did need to use the restroom, so I headed for the bathroom while everyone else made their way back to the trailer. Once I was finished, I stepped out into the cool evening air and was shocked to find Amy standing by the restaurant’s entrance, a lit cigarette dangling from her fingers as she stared up at the darkening sky.

The sight of her smoking was startling but not altogether unpleasant. Taylor used to smoke, too, and he’d always managed to look just as good while doing it.

Nearly everyone in his life was vehemently opposed to the habit-turned-addiction that he picked up on tour—our mother’s complaints were by far the loudest—but his stubborn streak was just as bad as mine was, and he didn’t listen to anyone. Until she got sick, that is. He quit cold turkey the day after she was diagnosed with cancer, and I hadn’t seen him so much as touch a cigarette ever since.

I cleared my throat to announce my presence. Amy’s shoulders tensed as she spotted me, her blue eyes narrowing slightly.

“Filthy habit, I know.” Her voice was quiet as she flicked glittering bits of ash to the ground.

I merely shrugged. It was a free country, after all; she could do as she pleased. I didn’t understand the need to ruin a perfect body with the nasty stuff, but it wasn’t my place to say anything.

“Dana just told me what happened to your mother. I’m so sorry,” she said, her gaze dropping to her nearly spent cigarette. “I lost my mom when I was fifteen.”

I watched the trail of smoke disappear into the air as she blew it behind her. 

“She flew out to L.A. for a work conference, and a bus slammed into her taxi on the way back to the airport. It was a head-on collision. She was dead on impact.”

Her voice broke during her spontaneous confession, and I breathed out a sympathetic sigh as I touched my hand to the arm of her jacket. She seemed so much like a child in that moment (a fifteen-year-old version of herself, perhaps) that the cigarette suddenly looked awkward and out of place in her trembling hand. Maybe she sensed the same thing, because she frowned down at it before tossing it into the ashtray on the nearby trash bin. 

“I don’t know why I just told you all of that. I hardly ever talk about her. I can’t believe I blurted out the worst thing that’s ever happened to me to a total stranger.”

She folded her arms across her chest, securing her jacket more tightly around her slender frame as the wind started to pick up. If _I_ was cold, then I could only imagine how uncomfortable she was in her stylish outfit that offered such minimal protection from the harsh weather. 

Laughing nervously, she smoothed a hand across her wavy, windblown hair. Her eyes were glassy, a hint of humiliation mixed in with the pain.

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” I said, letting my hand fall back to my side. “I mean, we’re spending a whole week together. We may as well get to know each other, right?”

She surprised me again by smiling, her eyes shining with something else now—a quiet understanding alongside a newfound sense of camaraderie.

“Right,” she finally agreed, relaxing as the tension between us melted away into comfortable silence.

I returned the smile and we walked back to the RV together, our footsteps eventually falling into sync with one another.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

It was only 9 PM, but it felt much later than that.

The falling darkness, our heavy dinner conversation, and the fact that we’d been on the road since dawn seemed to join forces and hit us all at once. It was my turn to drive and I’d been looking forward to it, but my excitement morphed into dread once I realized that my shift wasn’t likely to include any fun conversations or singalongs.

Before we even left Birmingham, Dana announced that she was “tired as fuck” and disappeared into the bedroom, Amy trailing wordlessly behind her. While I rearranged the driver’s seat to my liking, Taylor hooked his iPod into the stereo and selected one of his many playlists. As I maneuvered back onto the highway, the familiar voices of Fleetwood Mac were all I could hear. 

I had a sinking feeling they’d be the only voices I would hear for the next few hours.

Taylor was so quiet for such a long time that I eventually assumed he’d fallen asleep, too. A sideways glance at him confirmed my thoughts; his head was resting gently against the window, his chest rising and falling in apparent slumber.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and leaned back in my seat with a sigh. Taylor was supposed to help me stay awake for the next nine and a half hours, but evidently he’d forgotten all about that important duty. So I reached out and turned up the volume several notches, not even caring if I woke him up with a deafening rendition of ‘Go Your Own Way.’ 

In my opinion, he deserved it.

But as it turns out, he wasn’t asleep. Mere moments after I’d childishly expressed my agitation, he calmly readjusted the volume knob and brought the music back down to a normal level. 

Then, he surprised me with a question.

“Do you think I could pull off a lip ring?”

I snorted and nearly swallowed the stick of gum I was chewing. He was joking, right? He had to be.

“I’m serious,” he pressed on indignantly, his mouth curving into a pout at my amused reaction. 

Although I still thought he was being totally ridiculous, I somehow managed a straight face and answered his question with one of my own.

“Do you think _I_ could pull off a lip ring?”

“No,” came Taylor’s automatic response. “Your lips are perfect just as they are.”

And that time, I actually did swallow my gum.

The tiny ball of peppermint slid down my throat and into my stomach, joining the swarm of butterflies that had taken up residence there. Or maybe they were killer bees. The feeling my brother’s words had evoked was certainly a thrilling one, but I wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t lethal.

“Did that sound weird?” Taylor chuckled. “I just meant you shouldn’t ruin a good thing, you know? On the other hand, _my_ lips are nothing special. Did you see the lip ring our waiter had? It was pretty badass.”

“But that’s the thing, Tay—you aren’t badass. Why try to be something you’re not?” 

“Maybe I could be badass,” he argued.

“Yeah, and maybe pigs will one day sprout wings and start flying. But I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Nor do I see you with a lip ring. Not in this lifetime.”

“You never know, Zac,” he said, giving my side a playful little nudge. “I might be full of surprises.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

It’s funny what you learn about people on road trips. 

I spent so much time around Taylor that I thought I knew everything about him, but I was wrong. He was apparently very good at hiding things. Looking back, I don’t know why that came as such a shock to me. After all, I was keeping a huge secret from him, so it was only fair to expect him to keep pieces of himself hidden under lock and key as well. 

I discovered a lot about my brother as we drove along the nearly deserted roads into the midnight hours.

For example, he couldn’t handle chewing a stick of gum for more than a few minutes before spitting it out. And he would have shaved his head when our mom lost her beautiful, long, blonde hair during chemo had she not talked him out of it. Oh, and I learned that Lorie (Taylor’s intimidating, forty-year-old boss at Fleming’s) offered him a sizable promotion in exchange for sex, but he turned her down and threatened to quit if she ever brought it up again.

Maybe the sprawling night sky covered in a thick, ubiquitous blanket of clouds was what triggered his honesty, or maybe he’d been itching to get those things off of his chest for awhile. Either way, each revelation, however trivial, brought me a little bit closer to understanding Taylor, all the while making him that much more of a mystery. 

Maybe Taylor was waiting for me to match each of his confessions with one of my own, but I wasn’t ready for that. His admissions were tame in comparison to the twisted, earth-shattering truth I was holding so close to my heart. Plus, even if it were acceptable to have these feelings for my very own brother, none of the words in my vocabulary could adequately describe what I felt for him.

It wasn’t just that I enjoyed the view of his ass in a tight pair of jeans, or that it was getting (literally) harder and harder to be around him because my raging hormones couldn’t seem to control themselves. It was that I truly, deeply, and sincerely loved him.

At the risk of sounding like a total freak of nature, I thought about him all the time. I cared about his health, his safety, and his overall wellbeing. And quite frankly, I hated the idea of being away from him for any length of time, let alone an entire week, which is why I had agreed to the road trip in the first place. (Well, that and his promise to ride the Tower of Terror with me, which I definitely hadn’t forgotten about.)

But could I come right out and say any of that? Of course not.

The open road held an undeniable sort of magic, but it couldn’t magically erase my words if I let my true feelings for him slip. My secret infatuation would change the dynamic of our relationship forever, and I wasn’t yet prepared for that. Maybe I would _never_ be prepared for it. So I kept my mouth shut and focused on the road while he talked, his soothing voice a reminder that I was lucky to have him in my life at all, even if only as a brother.

Around 2 AM, Taylor started to lose steam, his once animated sentences trailing off into sleepy fragments that I could just barely make sense of. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was getting drowsy, too. It had started raining about an hour ago, and the steady rhythm of the drops as they splashed against the windshield was almost hypnotizing.

Despite his own exhaustion, Taylor must have noticed my weakening state because he repeatedly offered to take over, but I was quick to refuse. I knew how he was behind the wheel—especially in the middle of the night—and I couldn’t bear the thought of falling asleep in the passenger seat only to wake up in a ditch.

However, my fatigue didn’t even have a chance to set in before I was jolted wide-awake by a sharp, cracking sound that sliced through the air like a gunshot.

“What was that?” My spine tensed into a rigid line as I searched the surrounding darkness for the source of the noise.

“Maybe you hit some roadkill?” Taylor offered with a shrug, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he leaned his head against the back of the seat. “It was probably nothing.”

“It really didn’t sound like nothing.” 

My hands tightened around the steering wheel, alarm swiftly turning into fear as I realized that the vehicle was becoming more and more difficult to control.

“Well, if you’re worried, then let’s pull over and check it out. The next exit is in…” he paused, squinting through the rain-streaked window at the signs along the highway. “…two miles. Do you think we can make it that far?”

The RV answered his question for me by vibrating so violently that we were both thrown off-balance in our respective seats. In fact, Taylor nearly fell _out_ of his seat, and he clutched onto my thigh to steady himself.

Despite the fact that I had a much more serious issue demanding my attention, I couldn’t ignore the blazing warmth of his fingers as they grazed across the hole in my jeans and made contact with the bare skin of my leg. But before I had time to react to the feeling, he’d slid back into his seat and pulled his hands into his lap, gazing calmly at the road ahead like there was absolutely nothing wrong. He wasn’t one to panic, not even in the midst of a potentially disastrous situation. It was one of his traits that I normally admired, but at that particular time, I wished he would have expressed even just the slightest amount of concern to accompany my mounting anxiety.

As the trailer continued to rock back and forth, a harsh, rattling sound shook through the camper that set my teeth on edge. And because when it rains, it pours, the skies decided to open up and cast not just drops, but unforgiving torrents of blinding rain onto the windshield.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” I muttered.

Somehow, I was able to maneuver across two lanes of the deserted highway before slowing to a clumsy, erratic stop on the shoulder of the road. Seeming to understand that I needed a few minutes to compose myself, Taylor didn’t speak before unbuckling his seatbelt and venturing out into the storm. Once my breathing had returned to normal and I’d pulled myself together, I joined him by the side of the trailer, yanking the hood of my sweatshirt over my messy hair in a half-hearted attempt to protect it from the downpour.

“Looks like a blowout,” he declared.

“Are you sure?” I asked, crouching down beside him.

Taylor laughed, pointing at the bottom of the tire. “See that huge hole right there? The tire is as good as gone. We’re gonna need a spare.”

I hadn’t even thought to check for a spare tire before we left Tulsa. Apparently, no one had. Taylor and I searched high and low for at least twenty minutes, trying every possible location, and came up empty-handed. 

I sighed and threw my hands in the air in a show of helplessness.

“Should we go get Dana and Amy? How are they sleeping through all of this, anyway? The rain and wind alone are loud enough to wake the dead.”

Taylor shook his head. 

“We’ve already looked everywhere, dude. I think we should just call for roadside assistance.” 

I followed him back inside, our shoes squeaking muddy trails across the floor. He shed his jacket and scarf and draped them over a chair before slumping down in the middle of the couch. As he wriggled his cell phone out of his pocket, I tried not to focus on the soaking locks of hair that clung to his eyelashes, or the way his tight red t-shirt hugged his chest and arms and left very little to the imagination, but I couldn’t stop staring. The sight of my beautiful—and now very wet—brother took my breath away.

After making a few calls, he finally got through to a 24-hour road service, but of course there was a catch. Thanks to the inclement weather, we were warned to expect major delays but we were promised that a service truck would be able to come out and assist us sometime within the next few hours.

“So, what now?” 

I turned toward him with a frown. I knew I sounded—and most likely looked—just like a grumpy child, but I didn’t care. I was cold, drenched, and not to mention frustrated in more ways than one.

“We wait,” Taylor replied simply, standing up. “And while we wait, I think I’m going to test out the shower.”

Then, without warning, he started to undress right in front of me.

I gasped as I watched him peel away his thin t-shirt, followed by his skintight jeans. I bit the inside of my cheeks to stop a whimper from escaping when he bent over, clad in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, and rummaged through his duffel bag on the bottom shelf of the luggage rack. It probably took him less than a minute to find what he was looking for, but it felt like an eternity ticked by as I resisted the almost painful urge to reach out and touch his firm, glorious body. I imagined tracing my fingers along the backs of his thighs and teasing the sensitive skin until his knees buckled; I wanted to make him beg for me. 

“See ya in a few,” he said, draping a towel and his trusty pair of sweatpants over his shoulder before sauntering into the bathroom. 

Holy fuck, what was he _doing_ to me?

I groaned and let my head fall back against the wall with a resounding thud. With my eyes closed, I tried to recall the look on Taylor’s face when he’d accidentally ‘uncovered’ me in bed that morning. Had the sight of my naked body aroused him at all? Did he want me, too, or was I alone in this agonizing, forbidden pursuit?

The sound of the shower running did nothing to calm me down. If anything, I became even more worked up at the thought of what Taylor was most likely doing in there. At that very moment, he was probably running his thick fingers through his hair with his head thrown back as the water poured down all around him. Then, I pictured his hands rubbing down his chest, toward his stomach, and eventually moving even lower, getting lost in the soft tangle of hair right above his—

“Zac?”

I opened my eyes and slowly blinked Amy into focus. At least, I was pretty sure it was Amy. Her blushing face looked so much like Taylor’s that I wasn’t entirely convinced I’d snapped out of my reverie.

“Hey,” I mumbled miserably.

“Is everything all right?”

“No. We just busted a tire and had to call for help since we don’t have a spare.”

“Well, that’s not the end of the world. Maybe by the time the tire’s fixed, this crazy storm will have blown over.” 

She flashed me a smile identical to the one Taylor gave me whenever he was trying to get me to look on the bright side.

When I failed to say anything more, she took a seat at the edge of the couch and glanced over at me, looking genuinely concerned. In a faded Pink Floyd t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, her hair pulled into a careless bun, she probably shouldn’t have been radiating pure sex appeal. But just like Taylor, Amy was able to turn me on without even trying.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she repeated.

“I’m fine,” I replied curtly. “I’m just tired.”

Her look of surprise at my sharp tone should have made me feel guilty, but to be honest, it barely registered in the midst of my heated aggravation.

I then closed my eyes in an earnest attempt to block out the rest of the world around me, and when I opened them again, she was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

The more I urged myself not to think about Taylor, the more I longed for him. But isn’t that the way it always goes?

Apparently, my twisted, lust-fueled fantasies knew no bounds. Soon, I wasn’t just envisioning Taylor in the shower, I was imagining what it would be like to _join_ him. I would sneak up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, causing our slick, naked bodies to make contact for the very first time. Then he’d turn to face me—his beautiful blue eyes registering shock for only an instant before capturing mine with the same burning desire that I was feeling—and press me against the wall, kissing every inch of skin that he could find. His lips would latch onto my neck as he brought our hips together, moving against me in a sultry sort of dance, leaving me trapped and entirely at his mercy…

A moan escaped my mouth and I sat up abruptly, realizing that I was still on the couch in plain view. If someone walked in on me, there was no way in hell I could even attempt to hide my erection, which was poorly contained within the confines of damp, threadbare denim. 

So I hastily devised a plan. As soon as Taylor was done in the shower, _I_ was going in there. And I would stay in that bathroom for as long as it took to rid my mind and body of every single lewd, insufferable thought about him.

But as my terrible luck would have it, Taylor evidently felt the need to take the longest shower in the history of the world that night. Thirty minutes later, I was actually squirming in my seat, my heightened state of arousal growing more and more painful by the second. 

Finally, I simply couldn’t take it anymore. I began to search the room for a place, any place, that provided the slightest bit of privacy. After all, I couldn’t very well rub one out right there on the couch, or at the table, or even in the relative seclusion of the driver’s seat. I may have been at my wits’ end, but I still had boundaries.

Eventually, I heaved a sigh of resignation and lifted my eyes to small alcove up above—the space that I’d previously deemed unable to accommodate a child, let alone a full-grown man. I still wasn’t sure if I could even fit up there, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and I was suddenly willing to try.

It took some effort, but I managed to successfully cram myself into the tiny nook. I was wedged into an unbearably tight pocket between the ceiling and the wall that barely offered enough room to breathe. But I didn’t need to breathe; I needed to _come_. And I was convinced that the makeshift bunk was the only place I could achieve that goal without the risk of being caught by any of my road trip companions.

I quickly removed my sweatshirt and balled it up, stuffing it beneath my head to provide some relief from the hard wooden surface below me. Then I unzipped my jeans and tugged them down past my knees, taking my boxers along with them. 

I wasted no time in wrapping a tight fist around myself, shoving my face into the fabric of my sweatshirt to muffle the throaty sounds that exploded from somewhere deep inside. As I quivered and bucked against my fingers, I summoned to mind the image of Taylor in those tight boxer briefs as he bent over right in front of me. 

It was that glorious memory alone that pushed me over the edge. I shot several thick loads into my hand and bit down on my tongue, swallowing the urge to scream his name. When I was done, I was shaking like a leaf; I even felt the weightless tickle of my eyelashes as they trembled against my cheeks. It was over in a matter of seconds, it seemed, but the aftershock of my desire lingered, moving like molten lava through my bloodstream.

My chest still heaving, I wiped my hand on my sweatshirt and zipped up my pants before stretching out along my back. I wasn’t exactly proud of what I had just done, but I wasn’t entirely ashamed of it, either. It wasn’t a permanent solution to my problem, but at least it was a temporary fix. Maybe now, I could stand to be around Taylor for more than five minutes without feeling like I was about to combust.

I cast my eyes to the ceiling just above my head and listened to the tinny, violent hammering of raindrops against the roof before letting them fall closed. I was exhausted, and there was something almost calming about the storm that raged on all around me. Maybe I could relate to it because it was an echo of the chaos and confusion coursing through my bloodstream.

I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself as I shifted into a still uncomfortable, yet slightly more tolerable position on my side, begging for sleep to overtake me. As I drifted off, I remember thinking that I’d never felt so hot and so damn cold at the very same time.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

I wasn’t surprised to wake up to my stomach’s loud, insistent grumbling.

I was always hungry after “sex,” and that night was no exception. Remembering Taylor’s delicious cupcakes that resided in the kitchenette below, I think I actually drooled a little (at least, I hoped the stain in the middle of my shirt was from saliva and nothing else). I had originally planned on eating a slice of cold, leftover pizza, but once I was reminded of my brother’s homemade chocolate buttercream frosting, my mind could not be swayed. 

While I was asleep, Taylor had apparently decided to take a nap as well and had turned off all the lights in the cabin, making the task of climbing down from my private sanctuary infinitely more challenging than the ascent had been. But I was too impatient to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, so I sucked in a deep breath, swung my legs over the ledge and jumped, hoping for the best. When my bare feet connected with the floor and hardly made a sound, I smiled at my surprising stealth and made my way to the tin of cupcakes on the counter.

My good luck ended there. 

All I wanted to do was retrieve a few sweet snacks with the dexterity and grace I had possessed earlier, but instead, I ended up knocking the entire container of cupcakes to the floor. I watched in horror as the baked goods scattered in every which direction, the lid of the tin rolling several times before smacking into the wall with a definitive clatter.

“Zac?” Taylor’s raspy voice carried toward me in the darkness.

By that time, my vision had been restored and the taut, toned muscles of his chest and abdomen as he struggled to sit up were not lost on me. He was simply breathtaking, even when he was covered in shadows.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“What’re you doing?” he asked groggily.

Harsh, piercing light flooded the room without warning, and Taylor stood up to join me by the counter. 

“Oh,” he remarked, noticing his culinary handiwork strewn across the mud-streaked ground. He picked up an upturned cupcake by his bare foot and held it out to me, his blue eyes glittering with amusement. “Well, no biggie. Five-second rule, right?” 

I laughed and took it from his outstretched hand.

“I think that’s been on the floor for a little longer than five seconds, Tay.”

Still smiling, he crouched down and salvaged yet another fallen cupcake from beneath the table. This time, though, he didn’t give it to me. Instead, he ran his tongue along the generous, perfectly-sculpted layer of frosting, a small sigh of pleasure escaping his bow-shaped lips. If I hadn’t been leaning against the counter, I probably would have fallen to my knees at the sight of him licking the creamy chocolate almost teasingly, like he knew that he was putting on a show. 

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said slyly. 

Throwing me a little wink, he slid into a chair and set the cupcake on the table, regarding it as more of a symbol than something destined for consumption. A symbol of _what_ , I had no clue, but I had a feeling I would soon find out. 

When I finally remembered how to function, I settled into the seat across from him and polished off my own cupcake in a matter of minutes. There were certain things in life I was self-conscious about, but when it came to food, I had no shame. Taylor drummed his fingers against the tabletop while I ate, a curious grin on his face as he watched me.

“What?” I finally asked.

“Nothing.” He shook his head without diverting his eyes. “It’s just… I really like your hair like that.”

“Aw, does that mean I make a good drowned rat?” I joked, envisioning unruly strands of rain-sodden hair clinging to the sides of my face, while others stood askew at every angle.

“Your hair is so thick and wavy, just like Mom’s was,” he mused, his soft voice laden with nostalgia.

It wasn’t uncommon for Taylor to comment on my looks. In fact, he did it frequently, and I always thought it was because he knew that he was downright gorgeous and he didn’t want me to feel ugly or unwanted in comparison. He meant well, but I’d learned not to take his words to heart. I figured that delivering random compliments was my brother’s way of trying to make me feel better about myself after our mom had died and our dad had moved away.

But something about the overwhelming depth of his stare caught me off-guard and made me believe that this time, his words really did mean something. 

With his eyes locked on mine, it felt like we were the only two people left in the world. And when he reached out and fingered a lock of hair before tucking it gently behind my ear, I could have sworn that time stopped. In that frozen moment, we both morphed into one living, breathing entity, the howling wind and rain outside silenced by the collective beating of our hearts.

I gasped as his hand moved from my hair to my cheek. It was but a brief touch, but once his skin met mine with tender confidence, I recognized the feeling as the very thing I’d been missing my whole life.

“Tay…”

The confession was on the tip of my tongue. I could taste its secret, bittersweet intensity. But was I strong and crazy enough to tell him?

When he pulled his hand away, I narrowed my eyes at the cupcake that sat in the shallow space between us and tried to collect my thoughts, but no sooner had my gaze dropped from his than a forceful knocking sounded at the door of the RV.

Taylor jumped to his feet and threw on his jacket, zipping it up to his neck in an effort to conceal his bare chest. I tried to read his body language as he unlatched the door, but there was nothing unusual or striking about the way he moved. He just looked like Taylor, my ridiculously attractive older brother who could charm his way into good situations and out of all the bad ones. As he spoke to the large, bearded man standing in the doorway like he was our new best friend, his tone jovial and light, I was convinced that all signs of our earlier ‘connection’ had been figments of my wishful imagination. 

To stop myself from saying or doing anything I might regret, I took a huge bite out of Taylor’s cupcake and tried to focus on the chocolaty goodness melting on my tongue instead of the disappointment that was settling into the pit of my stomach like a heavy pile of lead.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

It was 7 AM by the time the busted tire was replaced, and I could hardly keep my eyes open.

I was so tired that I willingly allowed Taylor to get behind the wheel because at that moment, I trusted him more than I trusted myself. The worst of the storm was over now, but the wind echoed all around us, the thick rows of trees along the highway quivering in its wake. I leaned my head against the window and watched the passing scenery from the passenger seat in a half-hearted attempt to stay awake and keep Taylor company.

As he drove, he was much more quiet than he’d been before, but I couldn’t tell if his reticence was a result of his increased concentration on the road or due to the fact that he suddenly didn’t want to talk to me for some reason. Frankly, I was too exhausted to question anything, so I let his Queen playlist carry through the silence that lasted only until the familiar opening lines of “Bohemian Rhapsody” blasted through the speakers. 

_Is this the real life?  
Is this just fantasy?  
Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality  
Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see  
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy  
Because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low  
Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me…_

Our voices fit together easily, just like they always had. As we belted out the words to the epic song, I realized that not only had I missed singing with Taylor—I’d also missed the closeness and keen sense of comfort that his presence brought. 

After our dad moved away, we were both plagued by terrible insomnia and took to spending long, sleepless nights in the living room, where we sang our mom’s favorite songs at the top of our lungs as a way to deal with what we’d lost. But ever since we had fallen into the mundane routine of working separate jobs, we’d put an end to our all-night singalongs. I was glad that this road trip had brought them back to life, however briefly.

_Mama, I just killed a man  
Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he's dead  
Mama, life had just begun  
But now I've gone and thrown it all away  
Mamaaaaa, oooh  
Didn't mean to make you cry  
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow  
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters…_

Taylor wasn’t entirely focused on driving anymore—in fact, he’d let one of his hands fall away from the steering wheel to create an air microphone—but I didn’t care. All I cared about was feeling his rich, powerful voice fill my heart up again. 

It was amazing to witness my brother in his true element. Music was in his bones, it was such an innate and undeniable part of him, and I often wondered if a piece of him had died when our band was put to rest. He didn’t _seem_ particularly lost or broken, but then again, I’d learned that he was good at hiding things.

As the song tapered off, so did the rain, slowing to a gentle drizzle just as the sun began to rise. Taylor reluctantly curled both hands around the wheel in order to shift lanes and move onto the nearest exit ramp.

“We’re almost on empty,” he explained.

As Taylor refilled the gas tank, I decided that I was thirsty and made my way toward the kitchenette. Not a second after I’d crouched down to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge, a hearty slap was delivered to my backside. I yelped and spun around to face a smirking Dana, who looked slightly disheveled but nonetheless well-rested. 

“Where are we?” she asked, blinking innocently behind her dark-framed glasses that she wore in lieu of her usual contacts. “And why the hell is your ass so wet?”

“Gainesville, I think,” I replied, biting back a few choice words at her crass greeting and ignoring her second question altogether.

“I can drive the rest of the way. You guys have been up all night. You deserve a break,” Dana said. “I know the couch in here isn’t very comfortable, so maybe you should both sleep on the mattress in the back.”

I was caught in the strong undertow of very mixed emotions at her offer.

The thought of sleeping in a place that resembled an actual _bed_ as opposed to that cramped, claustrophobic bunk was heavenly, but how was I supposed to handle being in such close quarters with Taylor? Sure, we’d shared a bed before—many times, in fact—but not since my attraction to him had manifested into something that was slowly but surely spiraling out of my control. Sensing my hesitance, Dana raised her eyebrows at me, but Amy appeared beside her before she could say anything more.

Amy’s long, blonde hair was no longer in a bun and fell around her face in luscious waves. I knew that I was gawking, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was awestruck. I simply didn’t understand how people like her and Taylor always managed to look so perfect, even immediately after waking up. 

I sent a small smile in her direction but received a look of weary confusion in return as she breezed past me.

Dana threw me a puzzled look, but I shrugged it off and focused on peeling the label off of the water bottle that I had yet to open. Taylor joined us moments later, grabbing a small Gatorade from the fridge and guzzling it quickly while Dana filled him in on the change of plans.

“Awesome. I’m so ready to sleep, aren’t you?” 

He swallowed the last of his drink and turned to face me, his eyes shining with obvious delight. I nodded, although I could also think of a number of other things I was ready for that didn’t involve slumber.

As the girls tackled the remainder of the drive, Taylor and I settled into the bedroom. I tried not to stare as he unzipped his jacket and tossed it to the floor, but something about the way his muscles rippled at even just the slightest movement had me utterly transfixed. When he glanced down at the mattress and laughed, the sound pulled my attention away from his bare skin long enough to see what was so funny. I followed his gaze and rolled my eyes when I saw that the makeshift bed was covered in a neon pink quilt featuring the faces of the New Kids on the Block.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” he said, falling onto the mattress with a happy little sigh. 

“I won’t bite, you know,” he remarked and patted the spot beside him, smiling up at me from his reclined position amidst a sea of former teen idols.

It was then I realized that I hadn’t moved an inch. 

I was completely unaware of the passing of time as I lingered above him, my eyes glued to his half-naked form. But since I couldn’t very well stand there forever like some sort of idiot, I finally removed my jeans and sweatshirt and climbed into ‘bed’ beside him. My t-shirt and boxers should have offered me sufficient warmth, but I still shivered as Taylor’s eyes roamed across my body.

He reached above his head and turned off the light, and I was thankful for the sudden darkness. 

Making sure to keep a careful amount of space between us, I buried my face into the pillow and found that it smelled like Amy, a mixture of shampoo and soft perfume. After Taylor settled the ridiculous quilt over both of us, I grabbed a greedy fistful of the plush material and pulled it all the way up to my chin. 

The moment my eyes closed, I fell into the arms of sadness.

Maybe I was still upset from the conversation we’d had at dinner, or maybe being on the road again had shaken up my feelings and displaced them, making me much more vulnerable than I normally was. Either way, I was suddenly struck with the almost overwhelming urge to cry. 

Perhaps it was a foolish wish, but I would have given anything for one of my mom’s hugs and warm smiles that she used to give me before tucking me into bed as a child. When our band was on tour, I was prone to homesickness (even as I approached my twenties), but all it took was the reassuring sound of her voice across a telephone line to make me feel like I was home again. She made me feel so loved, so _safe_. Knowing that I’d never get to see her face or hear her laugh again made me positively ache.

I willed the tears away, but one or two stubborn drops escaped and rolled down my cheeks anyway. I sucked in a breath and hoped that Taylor hadn’t noticed, but when I felt him shift toward me on the mattress, his body heat almost palpable through the fabric of my shirt, I knew that he had. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his hands coming to rest along my upper back. “You’re allowed to miss her.”

Once again, he’d read my thoughts before I had even voiced them. 

The tears were gone as swiftly as they’d appeared, and I should have pulled away from his touch right then and there, but instead I scooted in toward him as he continued rubbing calming patterns through my t-shirt.

Taylor probably intended for the massage to be comforting, not sexual, but he somehow managed to make it both at the exact same time. He was close now—so close that I could feel the warmth of every breath he exhaled and smell the spicy soap he’d used in the shower. I wanted to turn around and press my lips to his; I wanted to _taste_ him. But I was too afraid of ruining the moment, so I remained motionless beneath his skilled fingers as they worked across my muscles.

“You’re so tense,” he said softly, silky strands of hair tickling my neck along with his words.

When his hand moved beneath the hem of my shirt and touched the bare skin of my back, I nearly passed out. I was overcome by a wave of pleasure-induced dizziness so strong that I had to clench my eyes shut tightly in order to ground myself. His crotch was all but pressed against my ass now, and I suppressed a moan at that glorious mental image alone.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, his fingers dancing toward my neck.

His raspy voice sent a rush of hot blood to my groin, and I nodded. It felt more than just good, which he would have discovered if his hands ventured any lower. 

_Is this actually happening?_

I nearly asked the question out loud, needing confirmation that this was indeed reality and not some twisted byproduct of lust and delirium. But the words were stolen away along with all of the air in my lungs when he leaned in and asked me to take my shirt off.

Despite my thrashing heart and wildly unsteady hands, I somehow managed to comply. As soon as my shirt hit the ground with a soft thud, his hands resumed their soothing ministrations.

God, he was so fucking _good_ at this. I would have suggested that he quit his job at Fleming’s and become a full-time masseur, but apparently I’d lost the ability to speak.

“Relax,” he instructed, his gentle voice flowing into my ears as he kneaded the muscles in my shoulders.

I sighed into the pillow as I felt my body eventually respond to his command. I would do whatever he told me to do; there was no doubt about that.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked quietly, his hands pausing in the middle of my back. 

There was something hidden just beneath the surface of his words, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

“No, keep going,” I urged, my tone thin and weak with desire.

_Keep going, and please don’t ever stop…_


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

“Do you remember the last time we were in Orlando?” The strange tone I’d detected in Taylor’s voice moments ago had dissolved into one of thoughtful nostalgia.

“You mean do I remember getting food poisoning and having to run off stage every few minutes to hurl between songs? How could I ever forget?” I simultaneously laughed and grimaced into the pillow at the less than pleasant memory. 

I rolled onto my stomach to allow Taylor better access, and he began massaging me in earnest.I felt his weight shift and press gently into the backs of my legs as my mind drifted back in time. 

To this day, I still have no idea what I ate that caused such a sudden, violent reaction four years ago, but it was definitely the sickest I’ve ever been. During those long, excruciating days and nights when my body felt the need to purge itself of everything inside of it and then some, Isaac refused to come near me unless he absolutely had to. (He should have known that you can’t _catch_ food poisoning, but our older brother was always a little more wary than most, on top of being a huge germophobe.) 

“He’s not a baby, you know. He’s eighteen,” Ike had remarked to Taylor almost disdainfully, shaking his head at me as I curled into a ball on the floor of the tour bus and rested my head beside the cool metal trash can. “He can take care of himself.”

But Taylor stayed by my side the whole time.

He didn’t care that I wasn’t able to “suck it up and take it like a man” like Ike wanted me to. The rough, rocky motion of the bus as we traveled made me even more nauseated, and sometimes, I failed to make it to the toilet or the closest garbage bag. But Taylor never made me feel badly about it; he simply cleaned up the mess and did what he could to help me. When I was finally able to keep food down, he brought me ginger ale and soda crackers and ate them with me, even when Isaac and the rest of our tour crew were indulging in delicious barbecue chicken or pizza or something much more appetizing than my bland diet. 

I was so miserable and grumpy that I’m sure I lashed out at Taylor on more than one occasion, but he took it all in stride. Instead of treating me like I had the plague, he showed me such amazing, selfless kindness, just like our mother always did when we were sick. 

When I was pulled from restless, nightmare-ridden slumber, he was next to me, his blue eyes shining down at me with sympathy. When I complained that I was cold, his warm hands soothed me. I always knew that Taylor was talented, but it was then I learned just _how_ amazingly skilled he was with his hands. With the cozy familiarity of his body against mine, I was finally able to sleep through the night.

Had I ever thanked him for helping me? For being the one person in my life I knew I could always count on?

I was brought back to reality when he found a particularly sensitive knot in the back of my neck. I groaned at the mixture of pain and overwhelming pleasure and was glad that the front of my body was hidden from view; my arousal was only growing more and more apparent by the second. I shut my eyes and relaxed against the mattress, enjoying the rhythm his hands adopted as they caressed my shoulder blades.

“I really miss our old life,” he said quietly. “I miss touring, writing, playing music. I miss the craziness, the creativity, and the constant motion… and I hate how far away it all feels now.”

His fingers tapped along the ridges of my spine like they were claiming the familiar keys of his piano, and I thought _If he wants to use my body as an instrument, he can play me all day long…_

I almost laughed out loud at my lame sense of humor, but thankfully I stopped myself. Taylor probably wouldn’t have appreciated his serious words being turned into an embarrassingly bad joke. 

“You still can play, you know,” I pointed out. “It’s not like we don’t have all of our old equipment in the garage.”

“I know, but…” His hands suddenly fell away from my skin, his body sliding off of mine and down onto the mattress. I propped myself up on one elbow and turned to face him, noticing that his eyes were bright and glassy, providing a natural source of light in the otherwise dark room. “I miss playing music with _you_. There was something so special about it.”

The tears never fell, but I heard them in his voice. They shook through his words and unhinged something deep within my heart. He was usually so strong, so unbreakable, so willing to take the crap that life threw at him without complaining or cursing the world like most people did, and it physically hurt me to see him falter. I closed the space between us wordlessly and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him against me. He rested his cheek on my shoulder instinctively, like he truly believed that it belonged there.

“I miss it, too,” I whispered, weaving my fingers in and out of his fine, glossy locks of hair.

We stayed in that position for several minutes without speaking.

Maybe it should have been awkward—after all, I was hugging my older brother to my chest like he was a small child instead of a perfectly capable adult—but instead it felt so good, so _right_ to have him in my arms. Plus, how many times had he done the very same thing for me? Taylor had come to my rescue more times than I could ever hope to count. I was so grateful to have him in my life, to know that he would always have my back and never judge me. 

He really was the best brother in the world.

“I wasn’t done with your massage, you know,” he said eventually, his gaze lifting to meet mine. 

“No?” I asked, my breath catching in my throat.

“Nope.”

He grinned while nudging me onto my stomach again, the spell of sadness broken. Straddling the backs of my legs, he wasted no time in getting back to work, his hands moving lower until they came to rest along my hips.

When his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my boxers, I very nearly cried out in surprise. The unexpected touch set my skin on fire, the flames dancing dangerously close to my renewed erection. 

Exactly how far was he willing to take this? And exactly how far did I want him to go?

“Let me know if you want me to stop.” As his soft breath hit my neck, his lips hovering just above my hammering pulse, all I could do was nod.

Slowly, almost tortuously, he tugged my boxers halfway down and felt his way along my ass until he reached the backs of my thighs. His own breathing became heavier, I noticed, as he worked the skin there with gentle certainty. His touch was so light and teasing that I couldn’t stop myself from arching toward him, seeking more.

Fuck, I wanted him so badly. I wanted him to take me in his fist—or better yet, his perfect mouth. The thought of his red, supple lips moving up and down my length was enough to make me come again right then and there, but I somehow managed to control myself. 

He massaged all the way down my legs, stopping to pay close attention to my calves. Did he know that I was prone to debilitating muscle spasms in the middle of the night? Was he aware that I woke up with actual tears in my eyes from the pain? On those seemingly endless nights, Isaac’s voice played on a loop in the back of my mind, telling me to “suck it up and take it like a man,” but there were times when I caved and collapsed into a pathetic heap of self-pity. 

(Yes, even at twenty-two, I still cried myself to sleep sometimes.) 

“Zac… are you awake?”

Amy’s voice wafted in from the doorway and caused Taylor to roll off of me and curl up on his side, leaving me to sit up and secure my boxers back into their rightful position. I didn’t know the extent of what she had just witnessed, if anything, because her eyes were completely void of all feeling as they found mine across the length of the small room. 

Had she seen Taylor massaging me? Did the sight of my shirtless chest make her uncomfortable? It seemed that I had definitely done _something_ to scare her away.

“Yeah. What’s up?” I raked a hand through my hair and frowned when I felt an obvious layer of grease between the messy strands.

“You left your phone in my seat, and it’s been ringing nonstop for the last twenty minutes,” she said in a neutral tone, approaching my side of the mattress and holding my cell phone out to me. 

“Thanks.” 

Our fingers touched briefly and she finally showed the first sign of real emotion all morning. She flinched and recoiled from the contact, staring down at her hand as though I’d burned her. Then she turned and left the room without another word.

I glanced down at the phone’s illuminated screen to find that the repeat caller was Andie, my scatterbrained coworker. Her forgetfulness was inconsistent and insanely frustrating. As I said before, she always remembered to bring Taylor a few extra blueberry muffins made from her grandmother’s secret recipe, but when it came to other things, she was entirely useless. On top of telling her about my upcoming trip several times, I’d also made sure to clearly mark my vacation days on the schedule hanging up in the break room because I knew how flighty she was. 

Evidently, my precautionary measures had been nothing but a waste of time. I rolled my eyes but called her back nonetheless, reminding her yet again about my week-long absence.

After ending the call, I tossed my phone on top of the pile of discarded clothes on the floor and rolled back toward Taylor, hoping to hear him say that he was ready to pick up where we’d left off. But instead, I was met with the sound of steady breathing.

“Tay?”

No response.

I touched my index finger to his collarbone and traced the smooth curve of his neck, but he still didn’t move a muscle. My heart sank in disappointment when I realized that he was dead to the world.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

Since I knew that my mind and body were far too worked up to let me sleep, I decided to get ready for the day. I figured we were probably fairly close to the campsite, anyway. I entered the bathroom as quietly as possible and let my boxers drop to the floor. My neglected erection sprang up immediately, just begging to be touched, and I cursed. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so horny that I’d needed to beat off twice in a matter of hours.

As I stood beneath the shower’s annoyingly weak spray, I tried to focus on Amy’s pretty face and perky breasts, but she was soon eclipsed by Taylor. He always knew how to find me. Instead of Amy’s soft hands on my body, I felt my brother’s calloused fingers cupping my ass, dipping into the curve between my cheeks to slide into my—

“Oh fuck,” I mumbled to no one but myself, the warmth of my release dripping through my fingers and blending in with the water before disappearing down the drain.

I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall, waiting for the familiar wave of guilt and shame to crash over me.

Oddly enough, it never came.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

“Rise and shine!” Something stabbed me in the ribs, and I opened my eyes to find Dana staring down at me with a hairbrush in her hand and a devious smile on her lips. 

As her gaze lingered on my chest, I looked down too and realized that I was still only partially dressed. I stretched and swung my legs over the side of the couch, and only then did I remember what had taken place after my shower. Once I’d cleaned myself off, I had decided not to return to ‘bed’ with Taylor. I had a feeling that being around him would only get me excited all over again, so I ended up curling up on the couch and letting the din of morning rush hour traffic lull me back into short-lived slumber.

“You might want to stop drooling,” I remarked sarcastically, which in turn caused Dana to roll her eyes and deliver a vicious punch to my midsection.

I chose not to retaliate and instead searched through my duffel bag for a fresh change of clothes. Meanwhile, Dana made herself comfortable in the space I had just vacated and continued to brush her hair, her eyes silently following my every move. When I managed to locate a clean t-shirt and my favorite pair of cargo shorts from my disorganized mess of belongings, I gave myself an invisible pat on the back for having such amazing last-minute packing skills. 

Just as I’d started to fasten the button on my shorts, Amy stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a thin, blue towel. Her hair hung around her face, the damp tendrils leaving soft beads of moisture on her porcelain cheeks, and once again I was transfixed by her sense of pure beauty. She looked entirely peaceful, that is, up until she saw me. When she spotted me, she tensed visibly and clutched the towel even more tightly to her naked chest. In my frustrated state, I almost wanted to rip it away from her body altogether just to see what she would do (not to mention what was behind it), but rather than make an awkward situation even worse, I merely smiled at her and left the room to wake up Taylor.

Taylor was usually a light sleeper and an early riser, so the fact that he was still breathing deeply with his head wedged firmly between the mattress and the pillow was surprising. On tour, he’d usually been the first one awake and typically took it upon himself to rouse Isaac and me. 

His favorite method of waking us up involved waving a cup of coffee under our noses while humming some ridiculous song he’d just made up. Taylor tended to believe that the things that made _him_ tick also applied to the rest of us. This wasn’t the case, of course, but I humored him anyway—I didn’t even like coffee, let alone love it, but I always accepted the cups that he offered to me morning after morning simply because I loved _him_. 

But on that particular morning, our roles were reversed and I had no magical, caffeinated beverage to lure him into consciousness. So I reverted to an old-fashioned tactic instead, one that never failed to work on him when we were much younger: 

Tickling. 

I bent over him and placed both of my hands on his bare hips, edging them just beneath the fabric of his shirt; then, I applied light, sweeping touches along his skin. Within moments, a helpless smile shook the corners of his mouth as he tried to roll away from me, but I had already pinned him down. 

I knew that he was awake now, but his eyes were still closed, so my job wasn’t quite done yet. My fingers crept even higher, sliding up his sides and toward his armpits, when he finally snapped to full attention. His eyes popped open, his breathing low and heavy as he glared at me. He always hated being tickled. 

“What the hell, Zac?”

“Sorry?” I offered, still smiling from his almost unbearably cute (albeit entirely predictable) reaction. But I wasn’t really sorry, not even the slightest bit.

“This is the thanks I get for that nice back rub I gave you?” 

The twinkle in his eyes let me know that he was joking, but the unexpected reference to what can only be described as the most erotic massage in the history of the universe caused the amused grin to drop from my lips. Heat rushed from my groin all the way up to my face, and I was sure he noticed. But instead of commenting on it, he just glanced down at his bare chest and then back up at me.

“I guess I should get dressed, huh?” he mused.

I wanted to tell him that the less clothing he wore, the better, but thankfully he left the room before the inappropriate words could leave my mouth.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

By the time everyone was dressed and ready to leave the campsite, it was 11:30 AM.

Since we all felt relatively tired and drained from our long drive, we decided against spending the day at Hollywood Studios (which had been the original plan, according to Dana’s itinerary) and settled on going to Downtown Disney instead. As far as I was concerned, that area was nothing but a glorified outdoor mall, and I had no idea how shopping and eating could keep us entertained for an entire day, but the sudden recollection of a Ghirardelli chocolate shop amidst the cluster of stores stopped me from complaining about the change of plans. 

The shuttle bus from the campgrounds to Downtown Disney was surprisingly crowded. We were packed in so tightly that we didn’t even need to hold onto the railings during the turbulent drive. As my luck would have it, I wound up toward the back of the bus with Taylor, our bodies pressed together in an unintentionally intimate embrace. Whenever the vehicle took a sharp turn or hit a speed bump, I was thrown into his arms, my crotch brushing against his ever so slightly. 

He laughed it off, but I was mortified. There was just no way he couldn’t feel my boner poking through the flimsy fabric of my shorts.

How did he always manage to stay so calm and collected? The briefest contact set my insides on fire and made me want to rip his clothes off to see exactly what he was hiding beneath his tight underwear. When he smiled, all I could think about was capturing his lips between my teeth and making him cry out in the best sort of passionate display.

But I wasn’t allowed to do those things.

Instead, I was forced to suffer as his hand came to rest on my waist in an attempt to prevent himself from falling into the young couple standing directly behind him. 

“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. 

What the hell was he apologizing for? If anything, I wanted him to move even closer. I wanted to crush every single molecule that stood in our way.

“This is our stop.” 

Dana leaned across a seat full of people in order to yank the collar of my shirt, as if her shrill announcement hadn’t been clear enough. As we poured out of the bus and onto the sunlit street, I noticed that Taylor had moved his hand to the small of my back. 

In one way or another, he was always guiding me.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

It was a collective decision to stop at Ghirardelli, which not only sold candy, but a host of other delicious chocolate-themed goodies, including but not limited to pastries, cookies, drinks, and ice cream. Taylor and Amy ordered iced mochas, whereas Dana and I splurged on enormous, overpriced double fudge brownies. We sat at a table overlooking the water while we enjoyed our breakfast (or was it lunch?), and I couldn’t deny that it was a pretty perfect way to start the day. It had been awhile since I’d placed hundreds of miles of distance between me and the heavier things I carried.

We spent the next several hours browsing through the shops and soaking up the warm but not too intense sunlight. It was a refreshingly nice afternoon, the cloudless sky a far cry from the insane weather we’d battled through in order to get there.

Dana had her heart set on riding the ferry that took passengers across the small lake that ran the length of the shopping strip. It didn’t look all that special to me, and I didn’t understand her fascination with it, but she was nothing if not annoyingly loud when it came to getting what she wanted, so eventually we all caved and headed toward the ferry dock. Once we got there, Amy lingered behind, her eyebrows knitted together worriedly.

“Ames, what’s up? Aren’t you coming?” Dana asked.

Biting her lip, she shook her head. “I’m not really much of a boat person.” 

“Aw, but this isn’t even a real boat. It’s practically a toy. Come on, it’ll be fun,” her cousin prodded.

But Amy refused to budge from her position on the sidewalk. 

“You all go on ahead. I’ll meet you on the other side.”

Dana frowned, her childish pout morphing into a look of true concern. 

“I’m not comfortable leaving you here by yourself,” she said. “What if that nasty old man who was hitting on you in the street earlier hunts you down and–,”

“I’ll stay behind, too,” I offered in an effort to shut Dana up so we could all get on with our day. “I prefer being on land, anyway.”

Amy shot me a look that was definitely not one of gratitude, and I was quick to break the gaze. As I watched Taylor and Dana file onto the ferry and claim a small bench in the middle of the boat, I suddenly wished that I could join them, but it was too late to go back on my word.

“You didn’t have to do that. I’m a big girl, you know. I can take care of myself.”

Her tone was clipped, defensive, and almost _mean_. The change in her personality was so abrupt and startling that I could barely speak. 

I had just met Amy. Had I really done something to upset her to such an intense degree in such a short amount of time? Had Dana told her something about me that made her hate me all of a sudden? Or was she just prone to wildly unpredictable mood swings?

“I never said that you weren't… that you couldn’t… you know what, nevermind." I sighed, my shoulders slumping forward. “I thought we were getting to know each other, but you obviously don’t want anything to do with me, so I’ll just leave you alone. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

And with that, I started walking away in the opposite direction, my Chucks scratching quietly against the weathered ground. Taylor surely would have handled the same situation very differently, but I never pretended to have my brother’s sense of tact or his seemingly endless supply of patience. 

Life was too short, and mine had no room for people like Amy in it.

“Zac, wait.” 

Her voice was surprisingly gentle, as was her touch as her fingers found the skin of my wrist. When I turned to face her, I saw that she looked genuinely guilty, her blue eyes shining with remorse. 

“I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. I didn’t get much sleep last night, but that’s no excuse for how I’ve been acting. Can we please start over?” she asked, offering me a timid smile.

“Okay.”

I returned the smile, deciding right then that it was best to forgive, forget, and try to move forward. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else behind her strange behavior. 

Something that she just didn’t seem to want to tell me.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

When we reached the ferry dock on the opposite side of Downtown Disney, we saw the small boat tethered to the wooden platform, but Taylor and Dana were nowhere to be found. Where were they? I fished my phone out of my pocket and frowned once I realized that there were no missed calls or text messages waiting for me. I turned to Amy and found that she too was staring down at her phone, a similar look of confusion etched into her features.

Since our agreement to “start over” (whatever that meant), we had barely exchanged a handful of words, and the tension was only bound to increase the longer we were around each other. We sat down at a table by the dock and stared out across the water in silence, waiting for them. But half an hour passed, then forty-five minutes, and they never showed up. I called Taylor’s cell twice, and Amy tried contacting Dana at least as many times, but neither of them picked up. 

With a sigh, I put my phone away and rested my arms on the tabletop, my gaze dropping to the ring finger of my right hand. A simple silver ring with an “H” symbol resting in its center used to sit proudly on that finger, the letter representing not only my last name, but the name of our former band. Our mom had designed identical rings for my brothers and me. Maybe it was silly of me to get so attached to a piece of jewelry, but I felt close to her whenever I wore it, particularly after she passed away. 

Sadly, though, I’d lost the ring several months ago. I had a tendency to take it off and rub it between my thumb and index finger whenever I was lost in thought. One day, in the midst of my mindless habit, I must have forgotten to slip it back on again. I hated myself for being so careless, for losing yet another precious piece of our mother and my past. 

Shortly after I’d misplaced my ring, I noticed that Taylor stopped wearing his, too.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I glanced up to find Amy pushing an actual penny toward me across the table, the shiny copper glinting in the sunlight, and I smiled despite my heavy heart. It was a very Taylor-like thing to do.

I shook my head to clear it, tucking my thoughts back into the corner of my mind where they fell dormant once again. 

“I was just thinking that I could use a drink,” I lied, nodding to the vending machine a few feet away.

“You know what? I could use a drink, too… but not a soda. A _real_ drink.”

My eyes followed hers and landed on the bar beside the dock, a wooden sign propped up on the counter advertising a wide variety of beers, margaritas, and other assorted cocktails. 

“Let me buy you a drink. Consider it a peace offering,” she said. “It’s the least I can do to make up for being such a bitch to you earlier.”

Before I could protest and inform her that I didn’t really drink, she was making her way over to the bar. I watched her mouth something to the bartender while holding up two fingers. A few minutes later, she returned to the table with two plastic cups filled to the brim with amber-tinted liquid, a layer of thin ice cubes floating just beneath the surface.

“Thanks,” I said as she handed me one of the cups. “Excuse my ignorance, but what _is_ it?”

“A rum runner,” she replied, lifting the cup to her lips and taking a drink. 

I’d expected her to sip from it daintily, but she surprised me by taking a hearty gulp, her lips smacking together in evident pleasure. Unmistakable traces of alcohol drifted into my nostrils, and when I leaned in even closer, sticking my nose just over the rim of the cup, I was convinced it was possible to get drunk off of the pungent smell alone.

“Holy shit, that’s strong!” 

Amy laughed. “Yeah. Wait until you taste it.”

I sucked in a deep breath before dumping a heaping mouthful straight down my throat, not trusting myself not to gag on it if I let it hit my tastebuds. I expected it to burn like most hard liquor did, but instead it went down smoothly. What shocked me even more was that I actually enjoyed the taste of it; it was slightly sweet without being overwhelmingly saccharine, like candy with an extra kick and a lingering hint of bitterness.

“How much do you want to bet that Dana made Taylor go shopping with her, and my poor brother was too nice to say no?” I asked.

“I’ll bet you this pretty little penny,” she replied with a slight drawl I hadn’t noticed before, flicking the coin in my direction.

Apparently, she was already starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Admittedly, so was I. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had rum. On the rare occasions I drank, I usually played it safe and stuck to beer.

As we playfully spun the penny back and forth across the table, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I was truly amazed by how quickly Amy’s mood had shifted. Just an hour ago, she seemed to loathe me, but now she appeared to be perfectly at ease in my presence. 

I wasn’t complaining, though. In fact, I really liked the way the alcohol made her tongue a little looser and her smile a little wider. As time wore on, her adorable accent thickened, betraying her intoxication, and my eyes developed a mind of their own. They were repeatedly drawn to the heart-shaped locket that rested between her breasts, but I’d be lying if I said I was paying attention to her necklace and not the cleavage peeking out of her flowing yellow dress.

When I finally redirected my gaze back up to her face, I noticed that she was twirling her straw through her drink thoughtfully. To my amazement, she didn’t even seem to have noticed that I’d been practically undressing her with my eyes. 

“You remind me so much of him,” she blurted out.

I cocked an eyebrow at her quizzically, swallowing another mouthful of my drink.

“My ex-boyfriend, Harrison,” she explained, her voice quiet. “You could be his twin.”

Suddenly, it made a lot of sense why she’d been so hot and cold toward me. While I certainly couldn’t help bearing a resemblance to her ex, I understood why it was difficult for her to act normally around me. After all, it was equally (if not more) torturous being around her sometimes, with how much she reminded me of Taylor.

“Bad breakup?”

“You could say that.” She spoke after a long pause, her eyes falling away from mine and landing on a spot somewhere out across the water, her index finger smoothing across the surface of the penny that I’d sent her way to break the silence. “But I won’t bore you with the details. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well, Dana told me that you’re ‘single and not looking.’ And I don’t know what that means.”

To be honest, I didn’t know exactly what it meant either, although I had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with my secret feelings for Taylor. II had no clue how to respond, so I handled it the way I handled 99.9% of awkward situations: 

I turned it into a joke.

“She’s just jealous because she wants a piece of this, but she knows I’m out of her league.”

Amy chuckled but looked slightly disappointed by my half-assed answer. I really didn’t feel like having that particular conversation, though, so I pushed my chair back and collected our empty cups before she could press the issue any further.

“Want a refill?” I asked. “This one’s on me.”

She nodded absently, and I wandered over to the counter to order two more rum runners.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

Inky shadows crept into the evening sky as we drank in companionable silence. 

We still hadn’t heard from Taylor or Dana, but we had long since stopped checking our phones obsessively for any word from them. My inebriated brain couldn’t seem to hold a single thought long enough to develop a true sense of concern about my brother’s prolonged absence, anyway. 

Amy’s flushed face and glassy eyes let me know that she was probably feeling just as good as I was. Every now and then, she scooted in a bit closer, until eventually our arms were touching on the tabletop. Her skin was warm against mine, and it wasn’t long before my thoughts drifted into the gutter again as I wondered what it would be like to inch my fingers beneath her dress and feel the silky smoothness of her thighs…

A hand came to rest on my shoulder, and I was so startled that I nearly jumped out of my chair and choked on my drink all at once. 

“Sorry,” Taylor said with a laugh, setting a brown paper bag in front of me. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

I reached into the bag and pulled out a meatball sub, my stomach growling in excited anticipation. But before I gave in to my hunger, I had a bone to pick with them. 

“It took you guys three hours to get _sandwiches_?” I raised my eyebrows skeptically, watching them exchange a knowing look as they slid into the empty chairs on either side of us.

“Not exactly. We had some important business to attend to,” Dana said cryptically, a mysterious glimmer in her eyes.

“Is that what I think it is?” Taylor bypassed my question and eyed the cup in my hands.

“Well, it’s not Dr. Pepper, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He gently pried the drink away from me and took a sip, his eyes widening once he swallowed. The third round of rum runners the bartender had whipped up was somehow even stronger than the first and second had been.

“I leave you to your own devices for a few short hours, and you turn into an alcoholic. Nice,” he remarked with a teasing smirk.

“She started it,” I accused childishly, pointing my finger dangerously close to Amy’s face.

“I want a drink,” Dana whined, shooting my brother an imploring gaze complete with a pathetic little pout. “Will you get one for me, Tay?”

Taylor sighed, but the look of mock annoyance quickly gave way to one of amusement as she continued to flash her big brown eyes at him across the table. 

“Fine,” he conceded. “Does anyone else need anything?”

 _Yes_ , I answered silently while shaking my head. _I need you to take off all of your clothes and let me have my way with you._

“Isn’t your brother the best?” Dana gushed once Taylor had moved out of earshot.

I nodded furiously, not because I was drunk but because it was true—he really was.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

We talked and laughed and drank the hours away, and almost missed the last shuttle back to the campsite. 

If Taylor—who was somehow much more sober than the rest of us, despite having downed two strong pineapple margaritas—hadn’t thought to check the time on his phone, we would have been stuck walking the equivalent of a 10K in order to get back to the trailer park. Either that, or paying out of our asses for a taxi.

The bus was nearly deserted this time, and we took advantage of the extra space, each of us stretching out along a separate row of seats. I glanced over at Taylor across the aisle and laughed when I saw that he’d pulled his hat over his eyes to shield them from the light fixtures above his head. 

We stumbled into the RV and took turns using the bathroom and brushing our teeth. While Taylor took a shower (he preferred to shower at night as opposed to in the morning), Dana and Amy claimed the mattress and went to sleep immediately. 

I curled up on the couch and tried to rest my eyes, but I wasn’t even remotely tired. The alcohol was still working through my bloodstream, pumping waves of lust-fueled adrenaline through my veins as I imagined what Taylor was doing at that very moment. 

Was he running his fingers down his chest, working his nipples into hardened little nubs? Was he thinking about me?

As if he’d read my mind, he called out my name through the bathroom door. 

“Zac?” he tried again with a bit more volume when I failed to answer.

Tensing up, I padded over to the bathroom and spoke against the closed door. 

“What’s up?”

“I forgot my shampoo,” he said, his voice just barely audible behind the sound of running water. “It’s in the side pocket of my bag. Can you grab it for me?”

I gulped and nodded, barely managing to articulate a reply once I realized that he clearly hadn’t heard my silent one. I fished through his collection of toiletries before closing my trembling fist around the small bottle of shampoo. With a deep breath, I opened the bathroom door and stuck my hand out blindly, resolved not to look anywhere but at the floor as we made the brief exchange. But the moment his warm, wet hand met mine and reached for the bottle, the nagging voice of the devil in my head urged me to look up.

 _Go on, take a look. Just one tiny little peek. He probably won’t even notice,_ the voice pressed on convincingly.

I lifted my head and nearly lost my footing when I found Taylor staring back at me beneath the stream of the shower, sporting a coy grin and a massive erection. 

In my fantasies, I was fearless. If I stumbled upon my gorgeous, naked brother in a dream, I would have ravished him without even the slightest bit of hesitation. I would have dropped my own clothes to the floor and joined him in the shower, sinking to my knees and devouring every inch of his fully erect length. I would have felt his hands in my hair, tugging lightly, his raspy voice cascading all around me just like the falling water as he urged me to take him deeper while telling me how fucking good it felt. When he came in my mouth, I would have savored every drop.

But this was not a dream, and the fact that Taylor was actually standing right in front of me in an obvious state of arousal stole every ounce of courage from my body. I wanted to run away, but as Taylor’s smiling gaze landed on the embarrassing tent that had formed in my own boxers, I found that I was all but paralyzed. 

I opened my mouth to speak but slowly closed it once I realized that I had no way to explain this. How could I tell him that I was hard because of him? Or that his firm, lean, beautiful body was all I had been able to think about lately?

My frantic thoughts scattered when he lifted his eyes to mine once more, said “Thanks for the shampoo,” and turned his back on me to continue on with his shower. I should have taken that as my cue to leave, but how could I refuse an opportunity to watch him in action? My entire body trembled with desire as he leaned his head back and worked a thick lather through his hair. All I needed to do was take two, maybe three steps forward and I’d be close enough to touch him. 

I longed to familiarize my hands with his strong biceps, his slim hips, and the curves of his perfect ass. I longed to kiss every single part of him.

But that was fantasy-Zac talking again. When reality kicked in and reminded me that I didn’t have the guts to do anything more than stare at him, I forced myself to look away and exited the bathroom on shaky legs—and smacked right into Dana as soon as I closed the door behind me. 

“Fuck!” I half-whispered, half-squawked. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?”

She stared at me calmly while she finished her drink of water, then she lowered her eyes to my erection.

“I got thirsty,” she spoke directly to my crotch.

“I… it’s… we weren’t…” I choked on my words and lifted my eyes to the ceiling. “It isn’t what it looks like.”

She raised her eyebrows. “So you weren’t giving Taylor a hand in the shower?”

I ignored her and stumbled over to the couch, falling onto it dramatically and burying my face into the slightly rough upholstery. 

“It’s okay. You’re both very fuckable. It only makes sense that you’d eventually wind up fucking each other.” 

Her cold fingers found my back and traced circles through the light fabric of my t-shirt; but unlike Taylor’s massage, her touch did absolutely nothing to turn me on. I recoiled from the unwanted contact, but she only moved in closer. 

“We aren’t _fucking_ ,” I seethed, my voice muffled by the cushion.

“But you want him, don’t you?” she asked. “I’ve seen the way you look at him, and I’ve seen what looking at him does to you.”

To prove her point, she snaked her hand between my body and the couch and gave my hardness a little squeeze. I cursed and slapped her hand away, causing her to laugh.

“Go back to bed,” I grumbled.

“Alright,” she replied sweetly, smacking my ass much like she had done the day before. “Sweet dreams, Zac. And good luck solving your little problem…”

Once I was convinced I was alone, I rolled onto my back and let out a strangled sigh. At that moment, I could have sworn that I heard a soft moan come from the direction of the bathroom. I turned promptly toward the wall and pressed my face against my arm to block it out.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

When Taylor emerged from the shower, I was still facing the wall in the fetal position while pretending to be fast asleep. Thankfully, my boner had eventually gone away on its own, but I still had no desire to see my brother after what had happened in the bathroom. I couldn’t shake the image of his wet, naked body from my mind.

It wasn’t like I had never caught a glimpse of Taylor with an erection before. In fact, I had seen him get “excited” more times than I could count, a phenomenon that seemed to happen of its own accord whenever our band performed. As he pounded the keys of his piano or strutted across the stage in a pair of skintight jeans, the bulge between his legs was impossible to miss. But there was always at least a thin layer of fabric covering it. While I had fantasized about it many times, I’d never actually _seen_ his hard penis before.

Now that I had witnessed Taylor in all his glory, I knew that he was even bigger than I had imagined, and with my eyes closed tightly, I had no problem recalling exactly what he looked like. That brief encounter in the bathroom had allowed me to memorize the shape, length, and delicious thickness of his shaft. 

I drifted back into my reverie and contemplated what it would be like to go down on him—or hell, what it would be like just to touch him. Thinking about the look on his face and the sounds he would make as I brought him to the brink was nearly enough to undo me, and I was desperately aroused once again.

_Fuck._

The couch bobbed slightly as he sat down by my feet and rubbed a calloused fingertip along the bare skin of my ankle.

“Zac,” he whispered, his tone cautious as he tried to determined if I was really asleep or not.

I held my breath and attempted to remain as motionless as possible, but the higher his finger traveled up my leg, the harder it was not to move.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he crooned in a soft sing-song.

I cracked a smile despite myself. 

That had always been Taylor’s way of tricking me when we were kids. I didn’t want to admit just how many times I fell for it, eagerly anticipating some sort of fun treat that Taylor had in store for me, only to realize much too late that he really just wanted to entertain his playful streak by blasting me with a water gun or decorating my face with magic markers. Of course, those were stupid childhood pranks, and Taylor had since grown out of those habits (for the most part) and into a relatively mature adult (again, for the most part). It was hard for me to believe that his intentions were anything but totally sincere this time, but there was still a part of me that hesitated, wondering if his “surprise” was actually his big, hard, throbbing—

“Zac,” he repeated.

My eyes finally popped open when he pressed something small and slightly cool into my palm, securing my limp fingers around it. Once I was at least mostly convinced that Taylor’s alleged surprise did not, in fact, involve any of his body parts, I sat up and gazed at him in confusion, my hand still closed into a fist around the mysterious object. 

He didn’t speak again, but his eyes told me to look at what he’d given me, and my curiosity was so great at that point that I heeded his silent request. I slowly uncurled my fingers to reveal a ring that was practically identical to the one I’d lost months ago, aside from a few marginal differences. 

“Happy belated birthday,” he said softly, a smile teasing the corners of his lips.

At first, I was too stunned to react. For several long moments I just sat there, studying the small piece of silver. 

How had he managed to find an exact replica? After losing my ring, I looked up the local jeweler who had crafted our original rings (he had been very good friends with our mother), only to find out that the shop had closed down, and I took that as a sign to let it go forever. 

I should have known that Taylor wouldn’t give up quite so easily.

“When I found out we were coming down here, I did some research online and found a guy just outside of Orlando who specializes in ring-making. He used mine as a model and recreated it to the best of his ability. I know it’s not perfect, but it’s pretty damn close, huh?” Taylor nudged my shoulder gently and scooted in to get a better look.

“Wow… so that’s why you and Dana disappeared earlier today?” 

He nodded, clearly pleased that he had been able to surprise me.

As I ran my fingers along the ring’s smooth surface, I swore that I could feel my mother’s warm, pale hands on mine during her very last days, her tired eyes full of life even though her body was losing the fight. I tried to blink away the tears that hung from my eyelashes, but to my horror, a few drops fell before I could stop them. Taylor caught them, though, his thumbs sweeping away the telltale signs of sadness before they had a chance to stick. 

I glanced up to see that his smile was now tinged with a hint of sorrow, his blue eyes shining with everything that I was feeling but didn’t know how to say. Then, he reached into his lap and gathered up a thin, silver chain, which he dangled in front of me while giving me a look of mock sternness.

“Maybe you should keep it on a leash… you know, so it doesn’t run away again.”

I laughed as I slipped the small band onto the chain and fastened it around my neck. Taylor had a way of lightening all situations—even the impossibly heavy ones—with his ridiculous sense of humor. The ring was cold against my skin, but my heart was warmer than it had been in months.

“Thank you so much, Tay.” I was too grateful to even be embarrassed by the way my voice broke. 

What happened next surprised us both. 

Without thinking, I threw my arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. He tensed up initially, visibly startled by my blatant display of affection, but it took no time at all for him to relax into the embrace. I rested my cheek against his and felt his heart’s steady beats, along with the damp strands of hair that tickled the bridge of my nose. 

“Anything for my favorite little brother,” he replied.

“I’m your _only_ little brother,” I pointed out, feigning offense.

“Still my favorite,” he whispered into my neck.

“I love you,” I murmured. 

I felt those three simple words all the time, but I didn’t say them nearly enough.

He echoed the sentiment and started tracing slow, familiar patterns down my back. When I felt the subtle weight of his own ring against my t-shirt, I smiled and pulled him in even closer.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

I know that Disney World is supposed to be ‘The Happiest Place on Earth,’ but I never really bought into the hype.

Even when our parents took us there several different times throughout our childhood—back when we were impressionable, wide-eyed, and (mostly) innocent—I didn’t consider it a magical destination the way so many other kids my age did. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely still had fun there; we would have been damn fools to not appreciate everything our parents did to make us happy. But I remember thinking, even when I was just shy of eleven years young, that I got a much more intense and satisfying thrill from making music than I could ever get from any amusement park. 

It was one thing to enjoy a simulated experience at face value, but it was another thing entirely to dive headfirst into your own life and really _live_ it.

When we entered the gates to Hollywood Studios and Dana and Amy began to excitedly rattle off the day’s schedule of events, Taylor and I decided to humor them. We preferred to take a much more relaxed approach when it came to our vacations, but it was clear that the girls had put a lot of time, effort and thought into all the planning, so we closed our mouths and let them lead the way. 

The four of us stuck together for the better portion of the day. We rode the Rock 'n' Roller Coaster (which I had wanted to go on anyway), we took the Studio Backlot Tour, and we sat through a short but painful showing of Voyage of The Little Mermaid that I could barely hear thanks to the wailing baby seated directly beside me. We even had lunch at one of those ridiculously overpriced restaurants where various Disney characters parade around and entertain you while you eat.

A photographer approached us during our meal and asked Taylor and me if we wanted professional portraits taken with our “wives.” We politely declined and laughed off the erroneous assumption, but as the day wore on and Dana fell into step beside Taylor, while Amy and I followed closely behind, I realized that we probably _did_ resemble two happily married couples. 

Several hours after lunch, we decided to split up into pairs. Dana and Amy had their hearts set on seeing a live performance of Beauty and the Beast, but that was where I drew the line. Taylor actually seemed a little sad about my adamant refusal to sit through the musical, but he masked his disappointment with a good-natured smile and accompanied me on Star Tours instead. 

Before the ride began, Taylor whipped out his trusty camera and snapped several pictures of us in our matching pairs of ridiculous 3D glasses. Photography was a hobby he had picked up not long after our band dissolved, and like most of the other things he dabbled in, he had a keen sense for it.

As he placed his hand on my shoulder and nudged our heads closer together to ensure that we both fit into the frame, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that we probably looked much more like a couple instead of two brothers messing around. But I didn’t mind at all. In fact, the thought of people believing we were in a relationship excited me much more than some ignorant passerby’s wrongful presumption that I was married to a woman as beautiful as Amy.

It was no secret that my senses were heightened whenever Taylor was around, but it seemed like he was being an even bigger tease than usual that day. While we waited in line for Muppet Vision 3D—an attraction we felt obligated to visit in honor of Isaac, who was no less than obsessed with Jim Henson’s colorful creations—I leaned against the thick rope railing and rubbed my neck mindlessly. I’d elected to sleep in the cramped little bunk the night before so that Taylor could have the couch, and my slumber in the confining alcove had been anything but restful. 

As if he knew my body better than I did, my brother crept up behind me and slowly worked through the tight muscles in my shoulders with his surprisingly strong hands, his breath tickling the back of my neck in the process. He always seemed to understand exactly what I needed.

When we stopped for ice cream later, Taylor insisted that he wasn’t hungry, but that didn’t prevent him from grabbing the cone right out of my hand and lapping up the melted chocolate that trickled down the sides, careful not to miss a single drop. I actually had to close my eyes at one point to block out the image of his tongue caressing the creamy dessert; it was becoming increasingly difficult to separate the ice cream cone from a certain body part that I was dying for him to pay a similar amount of attention to.

The park began to clear out around dusk, the hectic crowds that had existed earlier in the day thinning out considerably, so we rode the roller coaster one more time simply because there was no line. Then, Taylor pulled me into a nearby souvenir shop and modeled every single hat that he could get his hands on. Sometimes, it was all too easy to forget that my brother was almost twenty-five, and that moment was one of them. As I gazed into the mirror and watched him struggle to arrange the Dumbo hat around unruly strands of hair, I could have sworn that I was staring at the adorable, rosy-cheeked teenager he used to be. But there were other times when he looked much older than his years—when the creases that lined his eyes and the shadows that hung beneath them seemed intent on stealing every last shred of youth away. 

Once the hat was situated to his liking, he prompted me to take a picture of our reflection in the mirror. The flash (which I’d forgotten to turn off) blinded us both and threw us into a fit of giggles that swiftly turned into wild, unbridled laughter. Our childish antics attracted the attention of customers and employees alike, but Taylor thankfully sensed that it was time to turn on the charm and steer us out of the store before we were kicked out.

When we finally approached the ride I’d been looking forward to all day—and the one that Taylor had been positively dreading—my brother’s mood changed drastically. The silly grin on his lips straightened into a thin line as he stared up at the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, which looked even more imposing in the darkness. 

“You ready for this?” I asked.

He shook his head helplessly. 

“No, but a deal’s a deal, so here goes nothing.”

I smiled and started up the nearly deserted pathway, hearing his footsteps drag in an unsteady rhythm behind me. We were virtually the only people in line for the ride, and before long we were ushered into the fake hotel’s “library,” where a simulated thunderstorm raged on just beyond the cobwebbed windows. When a fierce lightning bolt split the air and caused a brief power outage, Taylor gasped loudly and clutched my arm for support. I wanted to point out that he managed to remain calm during actual natural disasters and that this storm wasn’t even _real_ , but I figured it was neither the time nor the place to reason with him, so I kept my mouth shut and let him hold on for as long as he pleased. 

Once the pre-ride show show drew to a close, we found ourselves inside of a rickety elevator car. We had our pick of seats, but of course, I made us both sit in the very front row in order to get the full experience. We buckled into our respective seats and I watched Taylor close his eyes and suck in a deep breath, like he was bargaining with a higher power for strength and the ability to make it out alive. As we waited for the ride to begin, the elevator car bobbed and swung ever so slightly, causing Taylor’s fingers to curl instinctively around the metal bar in front of him.

The higher up we traveled, the more his body tensed. Since he was usually so composed and in control of his emotions, I thought I would enjoy watching him squirm for once, but instead I found that it really bothered me to see him so far removed from his comfort zone. With his jaw clenched tightly and his spine pressed rigidly against the back of the seat, he looked like he was locked inside of a torture chamber. I was struck with a fierce, sudden urge to comfort him. 

“You can hold my hand if you want,” I offered.

I didn’t actually expect him to take me up on it, so when he placed his clammy palm on top of mine, I was completely shocked. But before I even had a chance to voice my surprise, I felt his lips collide gently with the side of my neck. I jerked back and turned toward him in astonishment to find his face just inches away from mine, his blue eyes glittering in the almost total blackness of the room. The elevator car gave way to another little jolt, forcing us even closer together.

I placed my free hand against the railing, dizzy from the intoxicating smell of cinnamon I could practically taste on his breath from the stick of gum he’d barely chewed. 

“Tay, what are you…”

His lips covered mine and stole away the rest of my question. The kiss was slow at first, like he was seeking my permission to continue (as if he ever needed to ask). I pressed my lips against his eagerly, not knowing exactly what he was asking or even _doing_ at that moment but knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was hopelessly in love with him and there was no turning back. 

He tangled his fingers in my hair and ran his tongue lightly along my bottom lip, seeming almost desperate to crush the space between us. I was half-tempted to unbuckle my seat belt just to eliminate one of the barriers standing in our way, but I was afraid of doing anything to burst this blissful, dreamlike bubble. 

The kiss only lasted for a few brief moments before we were ripped apart from each other by the sheer force of gravity. The window in front of us opened over the moonlit park to reveal the staggering height from which we were about to be dropped, and a forceful gust of air engulfed us as we plummeted downward. 

But even though I was falling, I felt like I was being lifted. I could still feel his soft lips against mine, so gentle yet so certain.

When the ride was over, Taylor chuckled and shook his head to rearrange his windblown locks of hair. His face was flushed, his chest rising and falling in time with his frenzied heartbeats, but despite all of the telltale signs of physical unrest, he looked perfectly at peace once again. 

I unfastened my seat belt with trembling hands and stood on equally shaky legs, wondering if I had been thrown into the Twilight Zone like the name of the ride suggested. Was I losing my mind, or had Taylor honestly just kissed me? 

A light breeze swept over us once we stepped outside, and I shivered. The evening air was mild, but desire was pulsing through me in alternating waves of fire and ice. I was hot one instant and unbearably cold the next. 

Once Taylor had glanced around us to make sure that we were still alone, he wrapped an arm around my waist and secured me against him. The gesture was casual enough, but the unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes let me know that he was entirely aware of what had just happened between us.

“That was fun,” he said with a smile. “Want to do it again?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

When I felt a familiar pair of hands grab my ass, I knew that Taylor and I were no longer alone. 

Apparently, spanking me had become Dana’s way of delivering a not-so-simple “hello.” At first, she appeared quite pleased with herself, but when she noticed my brother’s arm around my waist, her playful smirk turned into a look of genuine surprise. Taylor followed her gaze and immediately relaxed his arm so that it fell to his side once again. 

My entire body still burned from the kiss and I longed for just a few minutes alone to compose myself. But since that wish wouldn’t be granted anytime in the foreseeable future, I tried to play it cool like Taylor, praying that my shaky breaths and wildly beating heart weren’t dead giveaways.

“How are my two favorite Hansons doing?” Dana’s tone was light and airy, but I wasn’t blind to the suspicion in her slightly narrowed eyes. 

“Fine,” I was quick to reply. “Where’s Amy?”

“Sitting down over there. She’s… going through some shit at the moment.” 

Dana pointed vaguely through the darkness to a bench a few feet away. Sure enough, there was Amy, her pretty features almost entirely eclipsed by shadows as she frowned down at her cell phone in her lap. 

“That sucks. Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help,” Taylor said. 

If I had been the one to utter those exact words, I surely would have come across as insincere—even if I had meant it from the depths of my very soul—but Taylor’s eyes held such obvious concern and sympathy that it was impossible to doubt his true intentions.

We made our way back to the shuttle in relative silence. Amy was the first one on the bus and she promptly sat down by the window, placing her purse across the empty seat beside her so that no one else could claim it. 

Once again, it seemed that her personality had changed drastically in the blink of an eye, and I hoped I hadn’t been the cause of it. After several unsuccessful attempts at grabbing her attention from across the aisle, I finally gave up and shifted my focus to the local radio station crackling through the speakers.

There was a chance of storms in the forecast, but what else was new? 

The ride back to the trailer park wasn’t long at all, but it seemed to drag on for an eternity. The weather report had since faded into an old Lifehouse song, which Taylor hummed along to like nothing out of the ordinary had happened between us. 

Then again, what did I expect him to do? Make out with me again before confessing his undying love for me in the middle of a crowded shuttle bus? I shook my head to dismiss the ridiculous thought, but I couldn’t deny the fact that I wanted him to at least _acknowledge_ the kiss. 

After all, it wasn’t like it had been a careless, meaningless peck. It had been deliberate and infused with almost too much emotion. How could he just ignore it? Had he meant something by it, or had he simply been trying to take his mind off of the Tower of Terror by doing something even more bold and terrifying?

The questions spun through my mind, begging me for answers that I didn’t have. I thought I knew Taylor almost as well as I knew myself, but I couldn’t explain why he had suddenly decided to kiss me, much like I couldn’t explain everything I felt for him. 

When the shuttle dropped us off at our stop, we walked back to the RV in a single file line without speaking. Amy seemed even more withdrawn than she had been before, her head bowed toward the ground in something like defeat. Even the ever-talkative Dana was oddly quiet as she fell into step behind her. I wanted to chalk up everyone’s strange behavior to sheer exhaustion—it had been a long day for all of us—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. 

After deciding on sleeping arrangements for the night, Taylor headed straight for the shower and I retreated into the bedroom, where I changed into pajamas before collapsing into a heap in the middle of the mattress. I was just beginning to replay the kiss in slow motion when Dana appeared in the doorway and broke through my daze.

“Catch!” 

Her aim was just as bad as my coordination, and she snickered as the lollipop she had tossed my way smacked into my forehead before landing in my lap. She then wasted no time settling onto the mattress and fixing me in a stare while unwrapping her own piece of candy.

“So, care to tell me what’s going on here?”

I shot her a questioning look before dropping my eyes to the wrinkled cellophane.

“C’mon, Zac. I know something happened.” She pulled the lollipop from her mouth with an audible, obnoxious ‘pop!’ and waved it in my face for emphasis. “Ever since we met up with you guys, you’ve been acting all weird and giddy, like a schoolgirl with a crush.”

“No, I haven’t,” I retorted.

“You might as well just tell me now,” she continued. “I’m gonna figure it out sooner or later.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Bullshit,” she shot back, eyeing me skeptically. “You totally jumped Taylor’s bones today, didn’t you?”

“More like he jumped mine,” I replied without even thinking.

“ _WHAT? Seriously?_ ” Her deafening shriek shook through the room, causing me to clap a hand over her mouth until she calmed down. 

“Seriously?” she repeated after batting my hand away, her voice softer this time but her eyes no less wide.

“Well, technically speaking, he didn’t ‘jump my bones’… but he _did_ kiss me,” I mumbled, a heated rush of pleasure coursing through me at the confession.

“Wow. I didn’t see that coming.”

“That makes two of us,” I said, laughing quietly. 

I couldn’t believe I’d just willingly shared that very private piece of information with Dana, but I felt much lighter once I had. She wasn’t my best friend, not even close, but I sensed that I could trust her. It certainly didn’t hurt that she seemed to be entirely _okay_ with the idea of two brothers fooling around. 

“He randomly kissed you? Just like that?”

“Pretty much.”

“Did you kiss him back?”

I didn’t respond, but the blush that swept from the base of my neck to the tips of my ears all but articulated the answer for me.

“Did it happen more than once?”

I shook my head, electing not to tell her that if she hadn’t interrupted us, then it might have happened _several_ more times.

“Damn. Well, good for you,” she said around a mouthful of lollipop. “At least one of us is getting some.”

I concealed a smile by staring down at the piece of candy I hadn’t yet touched. 

“How long have you been in love with him?” she asked.

“I’m not in lo–,” I began to tell the brazen lie, but her death glare stopped it from fully leaving my mouth.

Her question caused me to sink into the folds of the ugly pink quilt and chew on my bottom lip thoughtfully. I honestly couldn’t pinpoint exactly when I had developed feelings for my brother. It wasn’t a revelation that snapped into focus overnight, nor was it a gradual, natural progression that gave me enough time and warning to adjust. Taylor and I had always been close—closer than siblings normally were, I noticed—but it wasn’t like I had always wanted to rip off his clothes and press our naked bodies together until he was screaming my name in unchained ecstasy. 

If I had to venture a guess, I would say that things started to change not long after our mom died. 

Once Ike and our dad moved away, leaving Taylor and me to fend for ourselves, I began to realize just how amazingly selfless and beautiful he was. When he first started his job at Fleming’s, his hours were awful, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to get home at 2 or 3 AM. After working a long, exhausting shift at the restaurant, I had no doubt that he wanted nothing more than the cleansing warmth of a shower and the comfort of his bed. But despite how tired he must have been, he greeted me with a smile, put on a pot of coffee, and stayed up with me for hours because he knew that I was bored and lonely and in desperate need of his company. 

There were so many things that Taylor couldn’t fix—like the cold, hard fact that our mom was gone and was never coming back—but in the darkest season of my life, he helped mend my broken heart.

Still, I had just barely started to wrap my own head around these thoughts; I wasn’t remotely ready to voice them. So I merely shrugged and redirected my gaze to the ceiling.

When a bare-chested Taylor walked in a few moments later, his eyes practically glowing in the darkness, Dana elbowed me in the ribs and flashed me a knowing grin. Her lack of subtlety knew no bounds. Taylor raised his eyebrows in confusion as she blew me a kiss and breezed past him before leaving the room just as swiftly as she had appeared. To avoid speaking altogether, I slowly unwrapped the lollipop and rolled it from the inside of one cheek to the other, frowning when the strong, saccharine flavor overwhelmed my tastebuds. I generally hated cherry candy, but I feared what I might do or say if my mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied.

Taylor settled down next to me with his book, shifting around on the mattress every few seconds to find a more comfortable position. He ended up facing me on his side, giving me a perfect view of his smooth, pointed hipbone and the fine line of hairs that disappeared beneath the waistband of his flannel pants. 

For awhile, the only sounds in the room came from me taking tentative licks of the lollipop as Taylor turned page after page of his book. I envied his ability to dive into someone else’s world so easily. It seemed I couldn’t escape my own twisted fantasies, no matter how hard I tried. No matter what I did to distract myself, it all came back to him, the memory of his warm, soft lips against mine sweeter than any dream I could ever hope to have.

He must have sensed that I was watching him, because he finally glanced up and set the book down between us. When his smiling eyes caught mine, I froze, the lollipop still stuck inside of the corner of my mouth.

“Can I have a taste?” he asked.

I popped the sucker out of my mouth and offered it to him, eager to get rid of it. But instead of taking it from my outstretched hand, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

Maybe I should have been prepared this time, but our second kiss was just as much of a surprise as our first had been. I was so shocked, in fact, that I let the lollipop fall from my loose grip without even bothering to see where it landed. I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered at all was Taylor’s mouth against mine, his breath fresh like toothpaste but not overpowering like the cherry candy had been. I gasped when the kiss grew deeper, moaning when the silky roughness of his tongue met mine. The heat of his bare skin burned through the flimsy fabric of my t-shirt, which he clutched onto with one hand while the other one tugged gently at my hair. 

It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I had no idea that a single kiss could hold equal parts comfort and excitement, or that it was possible for passion to be just as strong as the unwavering currents of love. 

Taylor had just begun to lower his body on top of mine when a series of forceful knocks sounded at the door of the trailer, followed by an angry cry.

I probably should have been concerned by the sudden commotion, but all I felt was disappointment as he pulled away from me and left the room to investigate. I heaved a bitter sigh and threw the blanket across the lower half of my body, hoping to push the neglected bulge in my boxers out of sight and therefore out of mind. 

I should have known that it was never quite that simple.

As tempting as it was to stay curled up on the mattress for the rest of time, the voices outside were only getting angrier and louder, and sheer curiosity finally got the best of me. I shuffled into the main cabin right after the door slammed to find Dana fuming by the window while Taylor straddled the arm of the couch, looking entirely bewildered. Amy was nowhere to be seen.

“What the hell’s going on?” I asked, searching the room for any signs of a violent intruder. “Who was at the door?”

“Just a drunk asshole. He’s gone now.” Dana brushed off my questions and slumped onto the couch beside my brother, all of the wild energy she usually possessed seeming to escape her body with that single motion.

The tension in the air was thick enough to suffocate, leading me to believe that the weird atmosphere I’d detected earlier had been more than just a figment of my imagination, but before I had a chance to get to the bottom of it, Amy emerged from the bathroom in a state of total disarray. 

Her hair—a thing of beauty that was usually styled to perfection—was a mess, the golden strands twisted into careless knots like she’d been tugging at them fitfully over and over again. Smudges of makeup streaked her pale cheeks in dark, haphazard lines, and it was obvious that she had been crying. She refused to make eye contact with any of us as she pushed past the curtain and drew it closed behind her. Although I could no longer see her, I heard her heave a sigh, the sad sound fading into the almost deafening silence that hung all around us. 

I moved to follow her, but Dana shook her head and reached out her hand to stop me, her eyes begging me not to voice the questions that I still had yet to ask. I eventually gave up and exhaled a heavy sigh of my own as I grudgingly collapsed down onto the other end of the couch. 

I’d been promised a fun, relaxing getaway, but this was proving to be anything but. What was with all of the mysterious drama?

“Who wants to watch a movie?”

Taylor’s eyes glistened with a brightness that I knew he didn’t quite feel. But he rarely gave way to sadness—not unless he absolutely had to—so it didn’t surprise me at all that he was intent on finding a way to break through the almost tangible darkness that loomed overhead.

Dana and I shrugged in unison, an unenthusiastic response at best, but it must have been a good enough answer for him because he promptly slid off of the couch and reached for his messenger bag. He carried the bag to the table and pulled out his laptop, placing a DVD case beside it.

“Since we’re in Disney World, it’s only appropriate that we watch _Aladdin_ ,” he said as he snapped his laptop open and hit the power button.

I groaned in a display of true disgust, but Taylor just rolled his eyes and laughed.

“I’m kidding, Zac. I know how much you hate that movie… which is why we’re watching this instead,” he announced, flashing the laminated cover at us.

“ _Three Amigos_?” Dana frowned. “I’ve never even heard of it.”

“It’s only the best movie ever made,” I said with a grin as my heart swelled fondly. 

Leave it to Taylor to remember to bring my favorite movie on a road trip (which was something _I_ hadn’t even thought to do). Then again, if it hadn’t been for Taylor, I wouldn’t have had any soap, shampoo, or toothpaste, either. My brother was nothing if not thorough and meticulous, not to mention thoughtful. He was forever looking out for me and coming to my rescue.

“If you say so…” she trailed off, sounding utterly unconvinced.

While I gave her a brief description of the plot that she hadn’t asked for, Taylor started the movie and situated the laptop at the edge of the table where we all could see it. He plopped down between us on the couch, and I noticed that he was slightly closer to me than he was to Dana. 

From the sly look that Dana threw my way, she had picked up on it, too. For emphasis, she slid away from us and purposefully gave us more room to ourselves. She caught my gaze again and made a kissy face at me, which earned her a silent “fuck you” in return. She mouthed, “no, fuck _him_ ” back at me and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively in Taylor’s direction. 

If he was aware of our wordless exchange, he didn’t show it.

“I’m freezing,” Dana whined before the opening credits had even finished.

I glanced over at her in amazement. She was wearing more clothes than Taylor and I combined, and I refused to believe that someone bundled up in a sweatshirt and fleece pants could possibly be cold. But Taylor didn’t even think to argue with her before reaching behind him for the blanket draped across the back of the couch.

Once the blanket was wrapped around all three of us so that we resembled a large, misshapen burrito, I settled back against the cushions and began to watch the movie. It had been awhile since I’d seen it, but I still knew practically every line by heart. 

I smiled when I saw Taylor mouthing along; I’d forced him to watch the movie with me so many times that he probably had the whole thing memorized as well. Dana, however, didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in the western comedy I loved so much. In fact, within moments, she apparently decided to stop watching it altogether and tucked her small body into the fetal position with her head smashed against the opposite side of the couch. 

When it became clear from Dana’s parted lips and heavy breathing that she really was asleep, Taylor scooted in toward me a bit closer. I normally had no trouble blocking out the rest of the world around me in order to lose myself in a film, but at that particular moment, _Aladdin_ very well could have been playing on the small screen in front of me and I wouldn’t have even noticed. All I was aware of was Taylor, his thigh pressed tightly against mine, and how fucking good he smelled. I wanted to kiss him and run my hands through his hair and let him know just how much I loved him.

Beneath the blanket, Taylor’s hand moved stealthily from his own lap to mine, and I gasped when I felt his fingers graze the flimsy edges of my boxers. His breath fell in gentle waves against the side of my neck, and I relaxed my shoulders and leaned into the velvety caress. 

How was it possible for a single person to drive me so insane with lust, yet make me feel so safe?

As the movie played on, my mind drifted back to Amy and how upset she looked. I felt truly awful for letting her wallow in sadness on the other side of the trailer all alone, and my guilty conscience even caused me to consider asking Taylor if we should invite her to watch the rest of the movie with us. 

But the question died on my tongue (as did all thoughts of Amy) when his lips collided with my neck again. He distracted me just long enough to slip his hand into my boxers, his tongue drawing smooth, deliberate circles on my skin. When his fingers curled around my erection, I let out a moan and felt a wave of heat envelop me, my breathing growing heavier and heavier as his hand moved up and down my length.

“Just watch the movie,” he breathed into my ear before pressing another soft kiss to the hollow of my neck.

_Oh, fuck._

The sound of his raspy voice alone was enough to send me over the edge, but his hands and lips on my sensitive skin brought me to a new, dizzying height of ecstasy. I tried to remain still, but little fireworks were exploding off of my nerve endings from his every touch. It never felt quite like this when I touched myself. It was like I was on the verge of falling off of a dangerous cliff, but there was no fear of dropping to my death. No, instead there was only unparalleled pleasure and the promise of sweet release. 

My eyes fluttered closed as he planted a long, deep kiss on my lips, one that would have surely caused my knees to buckle if I hadn’t already been sitting down. He tightened his fingers around me and tugged upward with slightly rougher strokes, the friction unlike anything I’d ever felt. I buried my face into his bare shoulder to stop myself from crying out, my lips a muffled vibration against his collarbone.

All it took was Taylor’s lips against my ear, followed by a husky whisper of my name, and I came. As I bucked and trembled against his hand, Dana groaned and shifted in her sleep, effectively yanking me out of my post-orgasmic bliss. I snapped to attention and pretended to be engrossed in the movie, but my insides were practically frozen with fear at the thought of being caught with Taylor’s hand around my dick. 

Dana had seemed interested in the idea of the two of us being together, but I sincerely doubted she wanted to be on the couch with us while we did it. Taylor’s steady breathing mocked my own labored gasps as I struggled to sit up and pull myself together. How was he always so damn calm?

Dana finally found a more comfortable position and fell back into slumber, and only then did Taylor remove his hand from my boxers. His eyes found mine as he licked each of his fingers one by one. The sight was enough to make me want to come again. 

Once I finally stopped shaking and was convinced I would be able to stand up without falling over, I made my way to the bathroom and latched the door behind me. After cleaning up as much of the mess as I could, I leaned over the sink and stared intently at my reflection, my flushed cheeks and shining eyes not seeming to belong to me at all, but to someone else entirely. Someone who had just let his own _brother_ —whom he was very much in love with—jerk him off.

The situation was beyond twisted, but I couldn’t deny how hot it was. A shiver rippled down my spine at the memory of his tongue darting out to taste me on his fingers. 

But _why_ had he done it? Why had he even kissed me in the first place?

I was dying for some answers, but when I exited the bathroom I was met with a scene of absolute innocence that I didn’t dare disturb. Taylor was laughing quietly at the movie with a peaceful smile on his lips, his hands clutching the blanket to his bare chest. I didn’t want to pull him out of what was obviously a happy place, so I simply sat back down beside him and zoned out, staring at the brightly-lit screen for the duration of the movie although what I was actually seeing was the seemingly endless blue depth of my brother’s eyes. 

While Taylor powered down his laptop and stowed it away away, I slipped into the bedroom and beneath the covers. I heard the toilet flush, followed by the tinny hum of the faucet, and then he joined me on the makeshift bed. He lifted the quilt and nestled into the soft folds of the mattress, rolling onto his side to face me. Our eyes were wide open and locked together, and he was still smiling when he leaned in to kiss me once again.

“Sweet dreams, Zac,” he murmured against my lips.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

With the heat of Taylor’s body so close to mine and the memory of what we had done on the couch (or rather, what he had done to me) all too fresh in my mind, I predicted a night of fitful slumber. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised to wake up the following morning to find myself tangled in the sheets, my body doused in an uncomfortable mixture of sweat and the sticky aftermath of my arousal. 

But strangely enough, shortly after Taylor’s lips met mine in a soft whisper of a goodnight kiss, I fell into the most blissful stretch of uninterrupted sleep that I’d had in quite some time. The mattress on the hard floor of the trailer was hardly a thing of luxury compared to my king-size bed at home. Still, I slept better and more peacefully than I had in weeks, months, and possibly even years—all thanks to the person curled up beside me.

Daylight sifted through the gap between the curtains and nudged my eyelids open. I stretched and rolled onto my side to find that Taylor was still asleep, his gentle, even breaths so calming and inviting that I almost felt inclined to close my eyes again and join him. Instead, I decided to take advantage of the fact that I was awake before he was for once, and was therefore allowed to watch him.

He was so beautiful, his eyelashes curled downward, at rest against his rosy cheeks. I quietly admired the trail of hair on his bare stomach that lay between his pointed hipbones, grinning when I realized that he must have flung the quilt from his body onto mine sometime in the night. Acting on a sudden impulse, I reached out and captured a lock of golden hair between my fingers, marveling at how smooth and fine it was compared to mine.

When he smiled beneath me, I froze. I hadn’t meant to wake him. But when he practically nudged his face into my hand, a silent signal of encouragement, I couldn’t stop myself from tracing the pads of my fingers along his jaw, over his cheeks, and across the bridge of his perfect nose.

There was something foreign and altogether childlike about learning the shape of his body this way—probably because I hadn’t touched him much at all since we were children. I had been shameless back then, but aren’t all little boys? I remember strutting across the bedroom in nothing but my red Superman underwear and launching myself onto Taylor’s bottom bunk, where I then proceeded to bounce up and down on his sleeping frame until he had no choice but to get up and play with me. 

There were also times when I exercised a bit more restraint; and on those rare, tranquil mornings, I was perfectly content to nestle into the sheets beside him and watch him as he slept. Even back then, I was fascinated by his features—so soft, yet so defined—and I took to drawing careful patterns along his exposed skin the way an unskilled yet wildly passionate artist might attempt a masterpiece. 

Present-day Taylor let out a barely audible moan as my hand found its way back to his hair. The noise was at once innocent and sensual, and it made my growing erection strain against my boxers. His kind and startling eyes never failed to unhinge me, but when they were closed, I found that I was able to gain back some of that heady fearlessness I’d possessed when I was younger. 

Which is why I didn’t even hesitate before leaning in and touching my lips to his. 

He sighed into my mouth and kissed me back almost lazily, his fingers curling around my bicep and drawing me closer. We kissed just like that—tenderly and without any real direction—until we heard a din of female voices break the silence. We reluctantly parted just moments before Dana stuck her head into the room to ask about breakfast. 

I was certain that my swollen lips and the raised area of the quilt below my torso were obvious signs of what we had been doing, but Dana didn’t say a single word that suggested she had seen anything out of the ordinary.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

With the new day came a renewed sense of energy and hope. 

I was happy that the air between our little group was far less tense and awkward than it had been the night before. Amy still seemed slightly withdrawn, but she certainly looked much more refreshed. Her eyes weren’t quite as vibrant as I knew they could be, but at least they were no longer red-rimmed and coated in tears. I still had no idea what had happened to make her so upset, nor did I dare ask. If she wanted to share details of her personal life with me, I was more than willing to listen, but I learned long ago not to pry into other people’s drama unless it was absolutely necessary.

When the shuttle marked ‘Magic Kingdom’ pulled up to our stop, I walked on behind Taylor and slid into the empty seat beside him. As the bus bumped along the poorly-paved roads, I tried to ignore the way his jean-clad thigh brushed against mine. His pants were even tighter than usual that day, and if I looked closely enough, I could actually see the outline of what was beneath them. 

The way he was seated was almost obscene, his legs spread with his head resting against the back of the seat as he stole glances at me through heavy-lidded eyes. It was like he was _asking_ for someone to come along and straddle him. I swallowed and forced myself to look away, the thought of climbing into his lap and grinding my hips against his far too tempting. I let my attention drift from my brother to Amy, and I was pleased when she responded to the small smile I sent across the aisle.

We all laughed at Dana’s reaction when we approached the Magic Kingdom. 

She had never been there before and was visibly more excited than many of the small children who surrounded us, her face pressed tightly against the smudged window of the shuttle bus to take it all in. She chattered excitedly as we made our way through the security line, but I noticed that Amy had fallen silent once again. In her hand was a large thermos of water, and I watched her knuckles turn white as she clutched it in a viselike grip. 

Once we had all made it into the park without incident, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. It wasn’t intended to be a romantic embrace at all, but a gesture of sheer friendliness and comfort. She tensed up at first, clearly shocked by my action, but she eventually leaned into me as we walked side-by-side through the massive sea of strangers.

The day passed by relatively quickly, all things considered. 

Since it was a Friday, the crowds were much crazier than they had been the day before, so we spent the better portion of the morning waiting in line for rides. As the hours wore on, Amy loosened up. She became much more talkative, and there were even faint circles of color on her cheeks (probably partially due to the sun, which was uncharacteristically warm for early November). As the four of us talked and joked to pass the time, I realized that it was finally beginning to feel like a _real_ vacation.

After a late lunch, Dana suggested revisiting Space Mountain for the third time. Taylor wasn’t too keen on the idea of riding it again, but he eventually voiced his wary agreement. Amy shook her head and seemed hesitant to part with the bench we were lounging on. 

She didn’t ask me to stay behind with her, but I had a feeling that she didn’t want to be alone, so I took one for the team and kept her company. Maybe Taylor had taught me a thing or two about chivalry after all.

We sat in silence for awhile, her eyes meeting mine almost dazedly before focusing somewhere in the distance. Overcome by a sudden bout of thirst, I mindlessly reached for her thermos of water resting between us and took a long drink, only to choke and sputter on a large mouthful of liquid that definitely _wasn’t_ water. No, it was vodka.

“Jesus Christ!” I exclaimed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand like it would actually help get rid of the taste. 

“Sorry. I didn’t see that coming, otherwise I would have warned you.” An anxious blush spread from her neck to the tips of her ears as she spoke.

“How much have you had to drink?” I asked incredulously, my eyes darting between the oversized container and her petite frame. 

“Not enough,” she replied. 

She tried to pull the bottle away from me, but I held onto it firmly, determined not to give it up without a good reason.

“Why?” I asked softly.

She sighed heavily and tucked her feet beneath her on the bench, her eyes clouding over.

“My ex, Harrison… he moved to Orlando a couple of years ago. He’s… well, he’s the reason I decided to come on this trip in the first place.”

I nodded slowly even though I didn’t understand, silently prompting her to continue. 

“I know it’s pathetic and unhealthy, but there’s a part of me that just can’t seem to let him go. We were together for eight years—since high school. He’s the first guy I ever slept with,” she admitted, laughing sadly. “And he… he really helped me after my mom died.”

A wave of compassion swept over me and I reached for her hand. I knew what it was like to want—no, to _need_ —people to hold onto when the rest of your world was coming apart at the seams. 

“He was the best part of my life for so many years, but then we just started to drift apart. We fought all the time—over nothing, really—and things went from bad to worse, until he decided to move to Florida one day, just like that. Even after all that we’d been through together. I stupidly believed he would change his mind and give us a second chance, or at the very least, give me some sort of closure. But Harrison was always better at running away from his problems than he was at facing them.”

“So, last night…” I began.

She nodded.

“I didn’t expect him to show up at the trailer completely wasted and screaming like that, but given his track record, I’m not all that surprised.” She sighed again, dragging a hand through her hair. “Anyway, he’s coming by to pick me up and take me out for coffee so we can talk things over properly. I didn’t tell Dana, because she hates his guts and would never let me out of her sight if she knew I was meeting him after what happened last night. Do you… I know we hardly know each other, but do you mind covering for me?”

It was my turn to sigh, shifting my eyes to the ground.

“I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing to ask of you. This is my mess to clean up, not yours.”

“No, it’s okay.” Against my better judgment, I added, “Go. Do whatever you need to do. I’ll try to keep Dana out of your hair for at least a little while.”

“Thanks, Zac. I owe you one,” she said, giving my hand a grateful squeeze.

“You don’t owe me a thing. But here, let me give you my number… you know, in case you need to call for help or anything.”

“Okay, _dad_.” 

She flashed me an exaggerated eye-roll, the same one a teenager might use on an overprotective parent, causing us both to laugh. Just after we’d finished exchanging numbers, her phone buzzed and her entire body snapped to attention.

“Well, my ride’s here. I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Good luck,” I called to her retreating figure. 

When she was out of sight, I uncapped the thermos and took another sip. I was prepared for the burn this time, and I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy it. 

As it turns out, the fact that I could drink one beer after another without feeling even the faintest hints of a buzz didn’t mean that I was immune to the effects of alcohol entirely. The vodka that Amy left behind went straight to my head, making me feel dizzy and slightly detached from my body. 

It didn’t help that I was left to my own devices for much longer than I had anticipated. Realistically, Dana and Taylor were probably only gone for a little over an hour, but to my poor, inebriated brain, it felt more like a year.

“It’s a small world after all, it’s a small, small world…” Taylor sang the annoying tune we had been forced to listen to on repeat when Dana dragged us onto the kiddie ride twice in a row earlier that day. 

He lowered himself onto the bench where I was seated, jostling the (now empty) thermos between my thighs.

Despite my hatred of the song, I laughed at his bizarre greeting, not so much because I found it all that funny, but because I laughed at everything whenever I was tipsy. But when my eyes left his and zoned in on Dana standing a few feet away, engaged in an animated conversation with a group of preppy-looking twenty-somethings, I suddenly understood what he meant.

“She ran into some old friends from her high school dance team while we were in line for Splash Mountain,” Taylor explained, following my gaze. “They made plans to go to dinner at some fancy restaurant tonight, but…”

“…you’d rather not hang out with a bunch of giggly airheads?” I finished for him with a grin.

“Pretty much,” he agreed with a nod, looking almost sheepish.

“I don’t blame you,” I said, trying to ground myself somewhere in the familiar depths of his eyes but finding that they kept shifting in and out of focus.

“You okay?” Taylor traced his index finger along my arm, causing me to suck in a breath and wait for the chills that I knew would inevitably follow.

“Yeah, I just have a headache. It must be from the sun,” I lied, knowing that the way I was feeling had absolutely nothing to do with the weather.

“Well, why don’t we go back to the trailer and relax for awhile? It’s been a long day, and I could use a break from all the screaming children.”

“That sounds like the best idea ever,” I replied.

“Great. I’ll let Dana know so she doesn’t freak out and send out a search party.” He stood up and paused, his hand still on my forearm. “Where’s Amy, anyway?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” I answered vaguely. “If Dana asks, just tell her that she wasn’t feeling well and went back to the RV to take a nap.”

He lifted his eyebrows curiously but nodded all the same. While he relayed my bullshit story to Dana, I wandered over to the nearby water fountain and filled the thermos with _actual_ water this time. My vision was still hazy and my sense of balance was slightly compromised, but at least one thing was clear:

Taylor would always have my back. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

I was feeling much more sober and less drowsy when we entered the trailer a half-hour later, thanks to being properly hydrated, but the moment Taylor pushed me onto the couch and straddled me, the rush of dizziness came back, my heart pounding so viciously that I thought it might burst right through my chest.

By then, I had gotten used to him initiating things between us (after all, that hot, forbidden hand job and all but one of our kisses had been _his_ idea to begin with), but it was still surprising to watch him take charge. 

Taylor had never been a very aggressive person.

Growing up, it was Isaac and I who had thrown all the punches at each other—usually teasing, sometimes borderline serious. We put each other in headlocks and shoved each other around just for the hell of it. But neither of us ever dared lay a hand on Taylor. 

I often wondered if that was because we knew he had very little desire to fight back, or if we simply couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him, even in a playful sense. Don’t get me wrong, Taylor was quite the prankster back in the day, but his jokes never involved the careless acts of physical violence that so many other siblings show each other.

When he kissed me, I fell into his eyes, loving that they offered a much more real and moving light than the sun that stretched across the window behind us. The kiss was deep from the very start and made me arch toward him instinctively, our tongues twirling together in a new yet comforting embrace. After a moment, he pulled back and ran his finger along his bottom lip, a suspicious smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

“You taste a little drunk.”

“Maybe that’s ‘cause I _am_ a little drunk,” I admitted with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Such a rebel,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss me once again.

I had expected a look of disappointment—maybe even one of genuine disgust—to cross my brother’s features, but if anything, he seemed _turned on_ by my spontaneous act of rebellion. He peeled my t-shirt from my chest in no time at all, tossing his own polo to the floor only moments later.

“God, Tay.”

I exhaled shakily as he sucked one of my nipples into his mouth and ran his fingers through the tuft of hair below my navel. I had never seen my brother quite so worked up before, the flush in his cheeks and the quiet fire in his eyes a stark but not unwelcome contrast to the lazy kisses we had exchanged earlier that morning.

He merely smiled and inched his fingers beneath the waistband of my shorts, staring up at me as my hips jumped of their own accord. His eyes never leaving mine, he moved down my bare torso and lowered the zipper slowly. I moaned loudly when he slid my boxers down and took a moment to admire me. It was a sound comprised of equal parts helplessness, arousal, and _holy fuck, I’m really drunk right now._ He seemed to understand the inarticulate sound and breathed a trail of warm air over the newly-exposed skin as if to calm me.

I wanted nothing more than to feel his hands on me, but at the same time, I needed to know what _he_ was thinking. He somehow always managed to read my mind when coherent words failed me, but I still didn’t understand exactly what was going on inside of his head. 

Maybe I wanted him to reassure me that it wasn’t just a dream. That it wasn’t all just a product of my twisted imagination. That he was in love with me, too. 

But despite the liquid courage tickling its way through my veins, the words never left my mouth. His name had barely floated past my lips in the form of a question before he gazed up at me again, his eyes bright and full of longing. 

“I want to taste you,” he said, his voice husky and firm.

The shudder that migrated from my body to his must have been answer enough, and he bowed his head and dropped a kiss onto my shaft. It was soft and almost ticklish, much more gentle than the grip in which he’d held me the day before when he’d gotten me off in nearly the exact same spot on the couch. But the ghost of his lips was soon replaced by the overwhelming heat of his mouth as he enveloped me. His hesitance turned swiftly into an act of unwavering confidence, and I wasn’t even given time to blink. 

I whimpered shamelessly, fully aware that I was being far more vocal than I usually was and than I probably should have been, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. It wasn’t like anyone else was around to hear us. 

Glancing down, I brushed away fallen locks of hair that rested on his eyelashes. I wanted to see him. I needed to remember everything about this, if only to remind myself in a future moment of doubt and disbelief that real life was infinitely better than my fantasies. 

“So amazing,” I mumbled, feeling incoherent. 

There was handful of golden hair in my grasp now, and maybe I was pulling with a bit too much force, but I liked being connected to him, not knowing exactly where he ended and where I began.

The first blow job I ever received was from a fan. It was a disaster. Her name was Connie, and all I remember asking for was _more_. Her small, pouty lips had tried to bring me pleasure and had failed—twice. I had trusted her because she was Isaac’s age and her hair was long and blonde and soft, just like Taylor’s. I had just assumed she knew what she was doing. There were tears in her eyes when she left the cramped bathroom stall we’d somehow ended up in, but my eyes were dry as they searched the cracked ceiling tiles for answers. 

Little did I know that _Taylor_ was the answer. That he was able to give me everything I needed without even trying.

After we had both gotten used to the feeling of his mouth around me, he dragged his tongue along my shaft and pressed his palm to my quaking hip for leverage. I jerked against him as my muscles seized up in warning, a river of heat threatening to flood my whole body.

“I’m coming,” I announced breathlessly, giving him what I hoped was enough time to release me before he was met with an unwelcome mouthful.

But instead of pulling away, he tightened his grip on me and dug his fingernails into my sides, swallowing everything I had to offer. When I was spent, he pressed a kiss to the inside of both my thighs. Despite everything else that had happened between us, it somehow felt like most intimate thing we had done together. 

His lips were swollen, just begging to be kissed, so I pulled him up with trembling arms and reveled in the sweet and tangy aftermath. 

What had I ever done to deserve this? To deserve him?

“Zac?”

“Yeah?”

“Your pants are vibrating.”

I retrieved my shorts from the floor and yanked my cell phone from the pocket, frowning when I saw the string of text messages that awaited me. They were all from Amy.

 _I’m an idiot_ , the first one read.

 _Pick up!!_ came the second.

And, finally, _I need your help. Please call._

“Fuck,” I mumbled, running a hand through my hair and letting my head connect with the wall.

“What’s up?”

“It’s Amy,” I said, her name rolling around on my tongue like a bitter pill.

“Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know.”

When the warmth of Taylor’s body left mine abruptly, I could have cried. He didn’t look mad, though, just puzzled and concerned. He handed me my t-shirt and I threw it on clumsily. It was probably inside-out, but I didn't care.

“Tay?” I asked, causing him to pause as he reached for his own shirt.

“Hmm?”

“I know this is shitty timing, but I really want to, uh… return the favor soon,” I said, my cheeks burning even before the words hit the air.

He smiled and brushed his lips against my forehead, leaving them there as he spoke. 

“There are no favors in love,” he whispered.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

At the very beginning of the road trip, Dana had told us, in no uncertain terms, that we weren’t allowed to move the RV from its designated spot. Not for _any_ reason. But Taylor had called her half a dozen times to no avail, and after the final failed attempt, we overruled her wishes and made the executive decision to use the vehicle to rescue Amy.

Although I didn’t know exactly what had happened, I was able to gather from our brief phone conversation that things with Harrison hadn’t gone as planned. She refused to go into detail, but her shaky, tear-filled voice indicated that something was very wrong.

I was surprisingly calm as I helped Taylor navigate the unfamiliar roads to Amy’s ex-boyfriend’s apartment. The unexpected blow job I’d received had served to simultaneously relax me and sober me up, but of course, Taylor didn’t let me drive—not even after my convincing argument that the effects of the alcohol had magically worn off.

“It was an orgasm, Zac—not magic,” he had remarked with a laugh, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth before slipping into the driver’s seat.

 _It felt pretty damn magical to me,_ I thought, my pants growing tight all over again at the memory of his skilled tongue bathing me in the most delicious sort of heat.

In all seriousness, though, what we had done meant so much more to me than just an orgasm. There was something so intimate about the way he had locked eyes with me while I came. The words he had spoken afterward lingered in my mind, playing over and over again like my favorite song on repeat. 

_There are no favors in love… There are no favors in love…_

While Taylor drove, I tried to stay focused on the task at hand, but thoughts of his radiant eyes and full, supple lips kept distracting me from the GPS balanced on the dashboard. As a result, we got lost more than a few times on the way, but thanks to Taylor’s lead foot on the gas pedal and his blatant disregard for the speed limit, we arrived there in pretty good time.

If I thought that Amy had been a mess the night before, it was _nothing_ compared to how she looked when I found her on the curb in front of the shabby apartment complex. Her shoulders were slumped, her cheeks stained with mascara-laced tears as she stared down at several small blades of glass in her hands. She had been in the process of tearing them into tiny pieces—a trait that reminded me too much of Taylor’s mindless tendency to rip things to shreds whenever he was upset—but she stopped as soon as I approached, her head bowing even lower toward the asphalt like she was pleading with the ground to open up and swallow her whole. 

“Hey,” I called from above her. 

When she eventually met my gaze, I gasped. There was a vivid bruise along her right cheekbone, like someone had brushed her skin with dark blue paint. Above it, her eye was so swollen and discolored that I could hardly recognize it as something that rightfully belonged on her pretty face. I sank to the curb beside her, my earlier sense of serenity replaced by unbridled rage at the thought of anyone laying so much as a hand on her.

“Where is he?” Despite my sudden urge to scream, I somehow managed to keep my voice low and controlled. When she didn’t respond, I gently tilted her face toward me, careful not to touch the injured skin. “Amy, please answer me. Did Harrison do this to you?”

She shook her head, waves of blonde hair falling loose from her hair elastic and tickling my fingers. I withdrew my hand and moved it to her arm, rubbing it across the soft fabric of her cardigan.

“What happened?”

She finally let the handful of shredded grass fall to the ground and heaved a deep sigh.

“We came back to his apartment ‘just to talk’, but one thing led to another, and we wound up having sex.”

My eyes widened at her blunt admission.

“I know what you’re thinking—I was weak, and I shouldn’t have given into him like that. You’re not wrong; but I’m still so attached to him, you know? In spite of everything that’s happened, in spite of everything he’s done, I just can’t seem to let him go. All it takes is the sound of his voice, and it’s like I turn into a blinded fifteen-year-old all over again.” 

She sniffled loudly, wiping her unblemished eye with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Anyway, in the middle of… you know… his _girlfriend_ walked in,” she mumbled, her pale cheeks flushing a violent shade of red.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. It was bad; worse than bad. Before I could even blink, she threw me off of him, and the next thing I knew, she was punching me and literally trying to rip the hair out of my head.”

“What the _fuck_ ,” I muttered under my breath, my blood boiling. “Did Harrison even try to stop her?”

She shook her head. 

“It all happened so fast, I think he was too stunned to even react. But that isn’t even the worst part. Once she was done trying to beat the life out of me, she asked him to leave with her…” Amy trailed off then, her voice trembling too badly to continue.

“Let me guess—he did?” I supplied bitterly.

She nodded, a fresh set of tears rolling down her cheeks in the process.

“I know I must sound so _stupid_ , but god, Zac… I really loved him. I mean, I honestly believed I would marry him one day.” She lowered her gaze and twisted the heel of her boot sharply into the ground. “I thought I knew him better than anyone, but I guess you can never really know a person. Not completely.”

“I’m so sorry this happened. C’mere.” I pulled her into a hug and secured my arm around her waist, marveling at how small and fragile her body felt against mine.

She must have felt safe inside of the embrace, because she began crying in earnest in no time at all. I smoothed my hand across her hair as her tears fell rapidly, soaking through the fabric of my t-shirt. Only when her breathing eventually became slow and steady, indicating that she was calming down, did I take her hand and give it a soft squeeze.

“Ready to get out of here?” I asked.

She nodded, letting me pull her up and lead her back to the RV. When we stepped inside, Taylor’s eyes were curious and shining with concern, but he didn’t speak. He was so good at reading people, at knowing when silence made more sense than words. 

On the drive back to the campgrounds, I suggested that we stop at McDonald’s to load up on all sorts of fattening goodies. Even Taylor—who normally didn’t go near the fast-food establishment unless it was his only option barring total starvation—ordered a bacon cheeseburger, large fries, and a strawberry milkshake. It probably wasn’t the _healthiest_ way to lift Amy’s spirits, but it pleased me to see the faintest trace of a smile on her lips as I handed her the hot-fudge sundae that I decided to surprise her with. If nothing else, the greasy food succeeded in soaking up all of the vodka Amy and I had consumed earlier that day.

When Dana finally called Taylor back and let him know that she planned on staying out with her friends until past midnight, Amy let out an audible sigh of relief. I could tell that the last thing she wanted (or needed) was the third degree.

After we left McDonald’s, we located a grocery store and bought a bag of frozen vegetables to use as a makeshift ice pack to help ease the swelling. When Amy quietly announced that her hand was starting to go numb from the cold, I took over for her. Being the youngest in my family and having grown up with two incredibly self-sufficient brothers, I wasn’t used to taking care of other people; but I didn’t mind “nurse duty.” Truth be told, it gave me a little thrill to help Amy and see just how much she seemed to appreciate my assistance.

Once we were back at the trailer park, Amy decided to take a long shower, leaving Taylor and me alone on the couch. He pulled out his laptop and for almost a full minute, we pretended to use it, faking interest in the _Seinfeld_ DVD that had started to play on the small screen—until a much stronger instinct took over. He inched toward me gradually but certainly, like a magnet drawn to steel, and when he was close enough for me to smell intoxicating hints of his cologne, he captured my bottom lip gently between his teeth.

“I love the way you taste,” he whispered against my mouth, and I didn’t bother to ask him to be any more specific.

When the shower’s loud jet slowed to a thin trickle and eventually stopped completely, we drew away from each other and situated ourselves on opposite ends of the couch. 

Amy toweled the excess moisture from her hair and I resumed “nurse duty,” all the while trying to ignore the aching in my groin from my latest encounter with Taylor. She soon fell asleep with her head on my shoulder, causing me to retire the bag of frozen veggies and nestle into the couch beside her. Before long, I too was lulled into slumber and when I awoke, it was to find the world around me sucked into a pitch-black vortex and Dana standing over me, her eyes dark and brooding, like she was sifting through a hundred different ways to murder me in my sleep.

I had barely lifted my head when she grabbed my arm and yanked me none too gracefully into the bedroom. I landed in the middle of the mattress and blinked several times to adjust to the darkness as well as the suddenly hostile environment.

“What’s your deal?” I finally asked, realizing that she was still piercing me with an accusatory glare.

“ _My_ deal?” she hissed. “What’s the deal with you getting all cozy with my cousin?”

I fell back against the hot pink quilt with a groan.

“Amy had a rough day,” I whispered defensively. “I was just trying to do the right thing.”

“Well, the 'right thing' would have been to keep your distance and not make her any more confused than she already is.”

I rubbed my temples in a show of frustration. “Look, she and Harrison–” 

“Trust me, I know _all_ about Amy and Harrison. I know they’re hopeless and dysfunctional. It’s always the same old story with them. She may think that she’s still in love with him, but…” She trailed off and pressed her lips together, as if willing herself to not say anything more on the subject.

“But…?” I prodded.

“You didn’t hear this from me, but she’s starting to fall for _you_ , too.”

“What? How can you possibly know that?”

“She told me,” Dana answered simply.

I exhaled a breath through my teeth and sat up abruptly, running a few fingers through my mop of messy tangles.

“You really need to figure out what you want or admit that you don’t have a damn clue, Zac. I can handle a lot, but I will _not_ stand around and watch my poor cousin’s heart get broken all over again because the person she fell for is in love with someone else.”

“I know what I want.” My voice was so quiet that I had trouble believing that I’d actually said the words aloud.

“Well, good for you.” Her entire demeanor changed then, shifting from stern to supportive. “At least that makes one of us.”

“Where’s Tay?” I asked.

“He was leaving just as my friend dropped me off,” she replied, giving my thigh a reassuring pat. “He said that he needed some fresh air, and that he was going to take a walk.”

After I helped move Amy’s sleeping frame into the bedroom upon Dana’s strict request, I made a nest of the couch cushions and waited for Taylor to return. The minutes seemed to stretch on for a lifetime as I stared blankly at the wide, curtained window, my stomach twisting into knots as I wondered why he had left in the first place. 

Had he really just gone for a walk for some fresh air like he’d told Dana, or was it something else? Was he upset? Had _I_ upset him somehow, without meaning to? 

The questions tumbled through my mind and begged for answers, but much like how a watched pot never boils, an entire hour ticked by like molasses and Taylor never walked through the door. 

Eventually, I decided that I needed to occupy myself with something other than the frustrating redundancy of my own thoughts, so I turned on Taylor’s laptop and watched a couple of _Seinfeld_ episodes, keeping the volume on the lowest setting so as to not disturb the sleeping girls in the room nextdoor. But my mind was elsewhere, and I couldn’t focus on anything but the fact that Taylor still hadn’t returned. My restless anxiety finally getting the best of me, I pulled a pair of jeans on over my boxers and slipped out into the night to find him.

To my surprise, it didn’t take long to locate him. 

He was resting beneath a cluster of trees just beyond the trailer while listening to his iPod, his arms folded behind his head as he stared up at the sky through the narrow clearing. Our mom had been a big fan of stargazing—I think she found solace in life’s solid and unwavering constants, even when her own existence was disintegrating. She had patiently taught us how to differentiate between the various constellations, and I could see Taylor putting those skills to use now, his eyes following the string of bright lights draped across the velvet night. 

He looked so peaceful that I almost didn’t want to disrupt him. But I knew that I had to.

"Hey, stranger," I remarked from above him, blushing as soon as the words left my mouth. 

He had only been gone for two hours at the most, but my comment suggested that I hadn’t seen him in days.

His gaze shifted from the stars to my face and he smiled, patting the bed of grass beside him. I noticed that he was spinning the ring on his finger, something he tended to do whenever he thought of our mother. Over time, I had come to see so much of her in him; she was everywhere, embedded in his features, his voice, his quiet grace. 

"Are you sure you want company?" I asked.

"I don’t just want it. I demand it." His voice was stern, but his grin was entirely playful as he pulled the earbuds out and set his iPod on the ground.

"Oh, is that so?" I replied, placing a hand on my hip. "What if I don’t want to keep you company?"

"Then I’m afraid I’ll have to make you."

Before I even realized what was happening, he had reached up and pulled me down on top of him. 

I seized a fistful of his sweatpants to stop myself from falling facefirst into the dirt, causing him to suck in a sharp breath and chuckle simultaneously. When I glanced down, I noticed that I had grabbed not only the cotton fabric of his pants, but the part of _him_ that lay beneath it, and I quickly released my fist along with a mumbled apology. Meanwhile, Taylor, clearly amused by the fact that I had more or less just fondled him, had moved a hand to my hair and was mindlessly combing his fingers through the tangles.

"Sorry," he said, although his smug tone indicated that he was actually quite pleased with himself.

I sat up and glared at him, pretending to be angry although honestly, I had enjoyed touching him just as much as he had. In fact, I kind of wanted to do it again and not let go this time. 

But he didn’t need to know that. No, what he needed was a taste of his own medicine. 

Without warning, I gently pinned his wrists to the ground and watched his eyes widen at my sudden show of dominance. I stared down at him for a few long moments before releasing his arms, knowing that I didn’t have the guts to actually do anything to him against his will. 

"It’s a good thing I love you so much, or else–"

My words hung in the air between us as I froze, terrified at what I’d just let slip. Reeling with embarrassment, I rolled off of him and plopped onto the grass, fixing my gaze on the ground instead of his prying eyes.

"That wasn’t supposed to come out like that," I muttered glumly, my voice getting lost in the soft cries of the wind.

He placed his hand on my forearm, and I shivered despite the palpable heat of his touch. 

"Zac, it’s okay," he said with a smile. "You’re my brother. You’re supposed to love me."

I sighed and hung my head even further.

"I just… I don’t know if I’m supposed to love you like _this_ ," I admitted quietly.

"According to who, exactly?" he asked, his fingertips dancing along my bicep.

"I don’t know… everyone? Society? Our friends and family? God?"

"Since when do you care what everyone else thinks?" he asked.

He made a good point. 

I tended to do whatever I pleased while uttering a silent but resounding _fuck you_ to everyone else. Well, everyone with the exception of Taylor, that is. 

When I was first learning how to ride a bike without training wheels, my parents stressed the importance of wearing a helmet at all times, but I paid no mind to their warnings. _Tay and Ike don’t have to wear them_ , I had thought to myself, driven wild with envy each time I watched them speed through the streets with ease. (At the time, I could barely make it to the end of the sidewalk without losing my balance and toppling over.)

In a particularly heated fit of jealousy, I was determined to prove that I was just as capable and coordinated as they were, so I yanked my bike out of the garage and hopped on, leaving my helmet hanging on the rack beside my brothers’. I navigated my way down the driveway and onto the street, the wheels spinning and wobbling beneath my unsteady weight. I was careening down the nearest hill without a problem, my hair blowing in the wind as the unmistakable thrill of adrenaline rushed through me, when suddenly, a neighbor’s dog broke free from its yard and darted into my path. When I slammed on the brakes, the bike stopped abruptly, but my body kept moving. I wound up with a scraped knee, a mouthful of gravel, and a busted lip. My parents were furious and withdrew my bike privileges for a month, and Ike laughed at me and said he couldn’t believe he was related to someone so clumsy. 

But it was Taylor’s reaction that hit me the hardest. 

He was the one who found me at the bottom of the hill, covered in an unglamorous mixture of snot, blood, and tears, and while there was obvious concern written all over his face, I also sensed that he was disappointed—that by doing something so careless and stupid, I’d failed him somehow. His was the only opinion that I really cared about, and I couldn’t bear the thought of letting him down. 

As I relived the memory, I chewed on my bottom lip (the same one I had injured all those years ago) and pondered what that meant. Taylor and I had been very close for as long as I could remember, but had there always been such a thick an undercurrent of emotions between us? 

_Have I always been in love with him?_

"You’re thinking too much. Just focus on feeling," Taylor said, his lips a whisper against my collarbone.

"How does it feel when I do this?" He kissed the hollow of my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin and pulling a whimper from my throat.

"Or this?" He moved his hand to my thigh and brushed across my erection in a slow, teasing pattern that left me wanting so much more.

"…or this?" The kiss he left on my lips was so deep that the end result was almost bruising, his long fingers knotted in my hair like he hoped to keep me there forever.

"It feels amazing," I answered breathlessly, the mixture of surprise and unbridled desire making it difficult to speak.

He pulled away and smiled. 

"Good. Now that that’s settled, will you please lie down with me?"

I stretched out into a reclined position and closed my eyes, relishing the crisp night air and the intoxicating closeness of him. Despite the calm silence that settled like a blanket all around us, binding us closer together, I fell back into my thoughts and felt my smile curve downward as I grew tense once again.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, as if my mind were a book and he had been reading it line by line.

"I don’t know," I replied, opening my eyes to meet his searching gaze. "I thought that maybe you came out here to get away from me. That maybe you were… jealous."

He leaned in and captured my hand in his own, tracing small circles on my palm with his fingertips.

"Life’s too short for you to worry like you do," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

When his lips ventured lower, caressing my jaw before sweeping upward to meet mine, a moan escaped my mouth, the desperate sound echoing not only passion and lust, but my absolute _need_ for him. He lit something inside of me, but unlike a candle’s flame that could easily be quenched by wind and water, my love for him was firm and resilient. Much like the stars that winked at us from their invisible beds in the sky. Much like all of the vivid, everlasting memories of our mother.

"I want you to listen to a song with me," Taylor spoke against my lips before breaking away to retrieve his iPod. 

He placed one earbud in his left ear and handed me the other, and I closed my eyes and waited for the song to start. I was shocked when Taylor’s crooning voice surrounded me just a few moments after hearing the opening piano notes. I was familiar with the song, but it wasn’t one our band had ever covered, so I could only assume that Taylor had recorded it on his own. And judging from the sound of his voice (which had grown deeper and more raspy with age), he had sung it fairly recently. 

_For you, there'll be no more crying_  
_For you, the sun will be shining_  
_And I feel that when I'm with you_  
_It's alright, I know it's right_

_To you, I'll give the world_  
_To you, I'll never be cold_  
_'Cause I feel that when I'm with you_  
_It's alright, I know it's righ_ t 

_And the songbirds are singing_  
_Like they know the score_  
_And I love you, I love you, I love you_  
_Like never before_

_And I wish you all the love in the world  
But most of all, I wish it from myself_

_And the songbirds keep singing_  
_Like they know the score_  
_And I love you, I love you, I love you_  
_Like never before, like never before…_

____

____

As the last chords died away, Taylor rolled toward me and erased my tears with his lips, his eyes shining with the same emotions woven into every single note of the song.

"Play it again," I requested, and we both laughed as another smattering of happy tears fell onto my cheeks like a much-needed rain on desert soil.

(*Song credit goes to ‘Songbird,’ written by Christine McVie.)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

A rustling of leaves pulled me awake, and I opened my eyes to find Taylor studying me quietly. I noticed that the morning sun had thrown little flecks of gold onto his face that sparkled when he fixed me in his gaze.

“Hey, stranger,” he greeted me, letting go of the blade of grass he’d been holding.

I replied by gently pulling him toward me and pressing my lips to his. Before long, he ended up on top of me, one hand planted firmly in the grass beneath us while the other one gripped the back of my head. We had spent most of the night in a very similar position, lips claiming every spare inch of each other’s exposed skin. 

We had done nothing more than kiss as the hours spun by, but I felt closer to him than ever before. When our mom died, so much of what I believed in slipped away from me, like spirits being chased away from breathing bodies in the night. But being with Taylor made me realize that I was still alive That even though she was no longer here, she wasn’t _gone_. That pieces of her still lived on inside of me.

“What’s on your mind?” he wondered, his mouth dropping from my lips to my collarbone.

“You.”

He grinned and moved lower, pushing away the fabric of my t-shirt so that he could trace his tongue along my navel and through the narrow zigzag of hair that rested just below it. I flattened my palm against the ground and breathed out a gasp of pleasure-filled surprise. He pressed another soft kiss to my lower stomach before deftly unsnapping the button on my jeans, causing me to shiver as he drew the zipper down.

“Cold?” he asked, timing his question with his ghostlike touch, his thumb skimming the surface of my erection.

I bit my lip and shook my head, though I knew that the answer was already obvious, that I was hot and pulsing against his hand.

“Ohh...” I sang as his tongue swept across me.

His eyelashes fluttered and the seams of his lips parted to reveal a smile. It was clear that he got a keen sense of enjoyment out of teasing me, that he loved every single sound and motion that he coaxed out of me. As much as I was positively aching for release, the anticipation was just as satisfying as the end result. 

_I’ll never grow tired of this amazing view,_ I thought, watching his sunlit lips finally close around me like an eager child devouring a lollipop, blood rising to his cheeks as he battled with his own arousal.

“Tay...” 

The word escaped my mouth helplessly, an automatic impulse, something I couldn’t control even if I wanted to. His name was always on the tip of my tongue, anyway, like so many of my favorite songs that had found permanent homes inside of me.

He lifted his head slowly and glanced up, his lips full and swollen, his eyes alive with tiny fireworks of desire. 

“Tell me what you want,” he urged.

“I want to be inside of you,” I admitted without thinking.

“What?” His voice was sharp and quick, like a laser beam cutting through a steel plate, and he cocked his head as if he truly didn’t believe he had heard me correctly.

“N-nothing,” I stammered.

My embarrassment in that moment surpassed the blinding humiliation I had felt fifteen years ago when Isaac tugged my shorts down in the middle of the soccer field to prove to all his friends that I really wasn’t mature enough to “play with the big kids.” Taylor had calmed me down that day, his lanky arms wrapped around me as he wordlessly stroked my hair while we leaned against the thick trunk of a dying oak tree, and I held my breath and waited for him to pacify me now. 

_I will never outgrow my need for him,_ I realized then. 

“It didn’t sound like nothing,” he murmured, pressing his lips to my trembling jaw before resting them against the shell of my ear. “It sounded like you said you wanna fuck me.”

Arousal flooded my veins with nearly enough force to burst right through them. Taylor hardly ever swore, which made the words he’d just uttered all the hotter. The whispered syllables struck me again and again until pearls of sweat sizzled and broke apart on my forehead and I was rendered weak and breathless, feeling much like I had just run an Olympic race although I had barely moved a muscle.

Brushing the hair from my eyes, he leaned in and gave me a passionate kiss—and while I tasted both of us, a musky hint mixed in with the crisp morning air that reminded me of firewood and cinnamon, I couldn’t separate his flavor from mine. That thought pleased me far more than it should have.

He ran his tongue along my bottom lip before venturing back down to my lap, where he took me into his mouth again with ease. My hands found their way to his hair as he adopted a sensual rhythm, and I tugged on fistfuls of silky strands. He groaned around me as he bobbed up and down, guiding me through rolling waves of longing like a lifeguard pulling a drowning man to safety. 

I panted in earnest as my release built, expelling loud pockets of air that swelled in the shallow space between us. Unlike Taylor, I wasn’t a soft-spoken person by nature, and it took every shred of restraint to stop myself from crying out as I came. 

When it was over, I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, overcome with blissful exhaustion. Taylor cleaned me up, his tongue smoothing over my skin almost lazily, the unhurried strokes reminding me of the way he brushed flawless layers of icing across a freshly-baked cake. It was like we had all the time in the world. Eventually, he resumed the position he had been in not long ago, his arm encircling my waist as he brought our foreheads together.

“I could do this all day,” I said happily, gazing up at him through our relaxed tangle of arms and legs. 

“So could I,” he agreed, snaking a warm hand beneath my shirt to absently flick at my nipples. “But we should probably go back inside before they wake up, don’t ya think?”

I shook my head stubbornly, wild knots of hair flying every which way as I expressed my disagreement. He chuckled and captured several wandering locks beneath his thumb and index finger, letting them fall away like grains of sand scattering back toward the mouth of the ocean. I was in the midst of voicing my avid protest when he sat up suddenly, retrieved his iPod from the bed of leaves it was resting on, and reached out to me with his free hand.

“C’mon,” he pressed.

“But… what about…” I gestured to the lump that was all too apparent through the thin material of his pants.

He rewarded me with one last lingering peck on the lips before standing up and tugging me to my feet as well. Taylor was always so calm and unassuming that it was easy for me to forget just how strong he could be when he wanted to.

“We’ll pick up where we left off later,” he promised, leading the way back to the trailer.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

Dana was already awake when we entered the cabin, her reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose as she scanned the weathered pages of the paperback novel on her chest. She sat up and tossed her book aside as we approached, her gaze dancing knowingly between us. 

“Sleep well?” she asked coyly.

Taylor smiled at her seemingly innocent question but I frowned, still feeling slightly bitter from our unpleasant exchange earlier. 

_Are all women so hot and cold and utterly unpredictable?_ I thought to myself as she all but beamed at me, the delighted look on her face a complete contrast to the spiteful glares she had thrown my way the night before. 

After my brother gathered up his shower stuff and headed for the bathroom, I flung myself onto the couch with a sigh. Being anywhere near Dana was pretty much the last place I wanted to be, but it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to go. Beside me, she hummed a quiet tune under her breath and made an elaborate show of plucking stray leaves from my matted nest of hair.

“You’re looking awfully woodsy today, Mr. Hanson,” she whispered into my ear, her breath causing the hairs on the back of my neck to bristle like spines on a cactus. 

I swatted her away and scowled, wishing that I could be in the shower with Taylor, where it was warm and safe. I closed my eyes, and lo and behold, it wasn’t long at all before my imagination was inspired by deliciously naughty images. 

I envisioned running my palms down his toned chest until my sud-soaked fingers claimed his erection. Then, I imagined spinning him around and taking him against the slick wall, feeling his muscles tighten around me as I moved in and out, in and out…

Dana let out a squeak of surprise, and my eyes snapped open at the offending sound to find her gaze locked on my lower body.

“Jesus, Zac. Just how much are you packing?” she asked, awestruck appreciation written all over her face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I huffed, yanking the blanket from the arm of the couch and settling it across my lap in an exaggerated display of modesty. 

“Yes, in fact I would,” she replied with an emphatic nod. “And believe me when I say I’m not the only one…”

I rolled my eyes, but the blush that heated my cheeks betrayed my true feelings. I knew that she was referring to Amy. I had been so wrapped up in Taylor for the last several hours that I hadn’t devoted a single thought to her. In fact, the events from the previous day seemed fuzzy and distant, like clouds rising high above the wings of a landing airplane, like bits of a dream that had since been put to rest beneath the reassuring cloak of reality.

Was it possible that Amy fell for me because she knew that I would come to her rescue? Wasn’t that part of the reason behind my love for Taylor? Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was kind, funny, charming, talented, and more beautiful than the rest of the world’s inhabitants… but beneath all of those amazing qualities was an unparalleled sense of devotion. He always supported me, no matter what I did, and he pulled me out of every single hole that I fell into.

A tug of empathy pricked my heartstrings as I remembered finding Amy by the side of the road, bruised and defeated and broken. But guilt followed quickly on the heels of my compassion. She needed someone to take care of her, but it couldn’t be me. The thought of kicking her when she was already down made my stomach tighten with remorse.

Eventually, Dana grew bored with my reticence and reverted her attention back to her book. Meanwhile, I curled into a ball in the vacant corner of the couch and focused on Taylor’s soft voice carrying through the thin walls that separated us. When I realized what he was singing, I forgot all about Amy once more, my lips wearing a secret smile as I sang along silently.

_To you, I'll give the world_   
_To you, I'll never be cold_   
_'Cause I feel that when I'm with you_   
_It's alright, I know it's right_

_And the songbirds are singing_   
_Like they know the score_   
_And I love you, I love you, I love you_   
_Like never before…_

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

Once we all had showered and gotten ready for the day, we took the shuttle to Epcot for the food and wine festival that Taylor was so excited for. 

He was hell-bent on all of us going together and had insisted on buying all four of our tickets. I wasn’t nearly as passionate about the culinary arts as my brother was (although, admittedly, eating was one of my favorite pastimes), but Taylor’s enthusiasm was infectious and I soon found myself sporting an ear-to-ear grin that matched his own excited smile. Deep down, I also knew that my feeling of unbridled happiness stemmed largely from the surreal night we had spent together beneath the comforting light of the moon.

Every time I recalled his eyes glittering with hints of starlight, or his soft voice carrying that sweet song into my ears, or his lips claiming mine just moments after he had made me come, I had to fight the urge to pinch myself to ensure that I wasn’t dreaming. To convince myself that it all had actually happened. 

The pessimist in me was still expecting to wake up from this happy life and find myself twisted between the sheets of my lonely bed, where Taylor and I didn’t kiss or touch in a way that was more than brotherly, where such blissful images existed only in my head. 

“How do you think she’s holding up?” Taylor leaned in and asked me softly. He nodded toward Amy, who was sitting beside Dana a few rows ahead of us on the small bus. 

I spent the next few moments quietly studying her profile. She had applied enough makeup to artfully conceal most of the bruising, but I had a feeling that no amount of beauty products could mask the damage that had been done beneath the surface. She _looked_ just fine—much like Taylor, even at her worst, she possessed a natural sort of beauty that most people failed to attain on their best days—but looks could be deceiving. 

For all I knew, she was falling apart on the inside. 

I cared about Amy’s well-being, I really did, but I couldn’t involve myself in her life any further. If Dana was telling the truth, I couldn’t risk leading her on and causing more unwanted drama and pain. So I simply shrugged and pulled my gaze back to the window, taking in the endless rows of palm trees as we passed them by.

When we entered the park, we were immediately bombarded by signs, pamphlets, and overeager employees boasting of the day’s events. To be honest, it was all a little overwhelming and I didn’t know where to start, but thanks to Taylor, I didn’t have to. He had clearly done his research. He pulled a small sheet of notebook paper from his back pocket and began reading aloud from a list that detailed the various food and drink stands that he wanted to try. I knew I could always count on him to be prepared. 

Over the course of the afternoon, we tried food from six different continents and became pleasantly tipsy from all of the international beers and wines that we sampled. Given the fact that I’d hastily indulged in half of a handle of vodka the previous day, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to get drunk again so soon after… but when in Rome, right? I was on vacation.

Eventually, though, I began to feel sick and forced myself to take a break. Not wanting to hold up the rest of the group, I parked myself on a nearby bench while they stood in line for more food. I watched with fond amusement as Taylor struggled to balance a hotdog, his half-finished beer, and what looked to be a small cup of soup, all the while carrying on a conversation with a group of strangers. For someone who typically didn’t eat very much, Taylor was certainly able to hold his own when he put his mind to it. 

“Is this seat taken?” I started and glanced up, noticing Amy standing above me with a small smile dangling cautiously from her lips.

“Nope. Go for it.” I scooted over to give her enough room to slide onto the bench beside me.

We sat in silence for several long moments, while she worked long strands of hair between her fingers thoughtfully. She really was so delicately pretty, and I found my smile slipping into a frown when I thought about what had happened to her at Harrison’s apartment.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she finally spoke up.

“Don’t be,” I said with a decisive shake of my head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, but I kind of walked right into that trap, didn’t I?” She laughed sadly and looked down, folding her hands together in her lap. “Anyway, thank you.”

“It was no problem—really,” I insisted. “I’m just glad that you’re okay.”

“You know…” she began, meeting my eyes once again. “Most people in my life can’t wait to tell me what an idiot I am when it comes to my ex, but you’re different. You seem to really _listen_ without passing judgment.” She paused before continuing. “No offense, but when Dana first told me about you, she made you out to be some kind of jerk, but I can honestly say that you’re one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met.”

I blushed at the compliment, secretly pleased that she seemed to see so many of the same qualities in me that I saw in Taylor. Her words brought me even closer to him, somehow. 

The feeling of her soft lips against my cheek came as such a surprise that I jumped and nearly fell off the bench. She pulled away with a light chuckle and stared directly into my eyes, the gaze so intense that I momentarily forgot that I was in the middle of a bustling theme park and not drowning in a deep, endless ocean of blue.

“I hope we don’t lose touch once our trip is over. I know Fort Smith isn’t exactly next-door to Tulsa, but I’d love to spend some more time with you,” she said, sounding hopeful.

“Look, Amy…” My voice shook as I tore my eyes from hers and toyed with the fraying hem of my shorts. “You’re one of the prettiest—I mean…” I trailed off, my cheeks growing even redder at my accidental slip. 

_Why can’t I be more like Taylor?_ I wondered for the millionth time. He never stuck his foot in his mouth, and he always seemed to know just what to say. 

“I mean, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you,” I amended quietly. “But I’m just… I’m not looking to be in a relationship right now.” _Not with you, at least_ , I added silently. “I’m so sorry.”

Her wild peal of laughter rattled through the air around us, causing my brow to furrow in confusion.

“Believe me, after what just happened with Harrison, I’m in no position to jump into a brand-new relationship either. Not even close. I just thought that maybe we could be friends,” she explained. “Just plain and simple friends—you know, the kind who get together over a cup of coffee or a drink every now and then?”

My cheeks still lit with a hot, embarrassed glow, I could do nothing but stare at her dumbly. 

“Did you really think I was hitting on you?” she asked through a grin of mild amusement.

I nodded. “To be fair, I wouldn’t have ever thought that if Dana hadn’t told me–”

Before I could elaborate, a shadow fell over us and I glanced up just in time to see Dana take a large, unceremonious bite of her lobster roll. I turned to Amy with a sigh.

“Would you mind excusing us for a minute? I have a bone to pick with your cousin,” I said, not even bothering to disguise the bite in my tone.

“Sure.”

Amy stood quickly, allowing Dana to slide into the spot she had just vacated. Once she had wandered out of earshot, I let my agitated look transform into a full-on glare.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she replied through another unwieldy mouthful. After swallowing loudly, she lifted her sandwich for emphasis.

I snatched the paper plate out of her hands and slammed it down onto the bench between us, ignoring her cries of protest.

“No. Why did you say that Amy has a _thing_ for me?” I seethed through gritted teeth. “Because guess what? She doesn’t, and I just found out the hard way. You caused me to make a total ass out of myself!”

“Oh, honey…” Dana placed her hand on my wrist and stroked it gently. “You don’t need anyone’s help in that department. Trust me.”

“Seriously, why did you do that?” I pressed heatedly.

“I figured it was the only way to make you realize what you really wanted,” she replied with a shrug. “Don’t get me wrong—it’s more than a little weird that you’re in love with your brother—but y’all are so damn perfect together that I don’t even care.”

My look of anger morphed into one of absolute shock as I digested her words. 

“You lied just to get me to go after him last night?”

She nodded triumphantly. 

“Indeed I did. And from what can tell, things ended up working out pretty fan-fucking-tastically between you two. So if I were you, I would stop biting my head off and start thanking me.”

“You saw us?” I gasped, the color draining swiftly from my face.

She merely winked and gave my knee a hard squeeze. 

“Sure did, but don’t worry. My lips are sealed.” 

“They’d better be,” I mumbled.

“Now, go be a good little brother and help Taylor finish off that huge piece of meat.” 

I followed her gaze and laughed out loud at the sight of Taylor talking to Amy while attempting to fit a hotdog of remarkable girth into his mouth. Yet despite how utterly ridiculous he looked, I felt an all-too-familiar stirring in my groin as his lips closed around it, his eyelids fluttering in a show of evident pleasure.

“Zachary Hanson! Need I remind you that we’re in a family place?” she scolded, leaving me to reach down and subtly readjust myself.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

When the evening came, Taylor and I found a relatively secluded spot toward the back of the park’s small concert pavilion and stood shoulder-to-shoulder while we waited for the live music to start. Although I tried not to show it, I was relieved when Dana and Amy announced that they were too exhausted to stay and opted to take the shuttle bus back to the campsite. 

It was nice to be able to spend some time alone with him again.

“What a perfect day.” Taylor breathed out a sigh as his fingertips brushed gently against my own, exciting my every nerve ending.

The folk singer onstage launched into a mellow song that suited the night’s overall sense of serenity, rippling over us like a lazy breeze along a current. As I closed my eyes, I was pulled back in time, swept up by a wave of bittersweet nostalgia that carried me back to the days when we used to play music for crowds just like this one. 

I was usually able to tuck away that bittersweet part of my life, archiving the memories like a box of old photographs that I couldn’t bring myself to throw away but found too painful to revisit. But in that moment, I _wanted_ to remember. I opened my eyes and moved closer to Taylor, sensing that he was caught up in the very same feelings. 

“Dance with me?” he whispered huskily as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close.

I responded by mirroring his motions and pressing my head against his chest, burying myself in his familiar scent. He smelled distinctly of the outdoors and the crisp, nutty beer that he had been drinking. As we swayed along with the music, his hands guiding my hips in a barely perceptible rhythm, the rest of the world fell away and I didn’t care that we were in a crowded theme park, or that what we were doing might appear strange to the people around us. 

_Your touch pushed back the clouds just like the sun_   
_Your hand pulled me out of the hardest time that I’ve ever known_   
_Your love broke through walls of stone_   
_It was you_   
_It was you alone…_

He was all that mattered.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

A blanket of peace settled around us as we walked side-by-side through the cool, clear night. 

It was late and the theme park was mostly deserted, reminding me of a recurring nightmare that I used to have when I was much younger. In those dark dreams, I was trapped inside of a carnival, and I ran frantically from one abandoned ride to the next, the lonely carriages of the Ferris wheel rocking eerily through the still and silent air. But in that moment, I didn’t feel even slightly rattled as we passed through the emptiness together. 

With Taylor next to me, it was impossible to feel anything but safe and blissfully content.

A handful of people stood by the shuttle stop, their frames limp and weary with exhaustion, and I was just about to join them when Taylor surprised me by breezing right past them and continuing across the parking lot.

“Um… Tay? Our stop’s over there.” 

I placed a hand on his arm gently in an attempt to steer him in the right direction. Maybe he’d gotten far more drunk off of all of those beer and wine samples than I’d realized.

“I know,” he replied without breaking stride. 

“So… we’re not taking the bus back to the campsite?” I inquired as I fell into step behind him.

“Nope.”

“Can I ask why?”

Once we had approached the taxi stand, he turned around to face me.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, his lips curving into a teasing grin.

Some things never change, and my brother’s unfailing ability to surprise me was one of them. 

He was so predictable in certain ways—like how he always took his coffee with a dash of sugar and no milk, and how he got his hair cut every third Wednesday of the month (even if it was just a trim) because he had never been able to tolerate the sight of his own split ends. But despite how well I knew him, there was an air of mystery that surrounded him at all times, a thrill of unpredictability that kept me on my toes.

An hour and a whopping hundred dollars later, we were dropped off on a vacant strip of Cocoa Beach. The saltwater wind whipped my hair around my face as I climbed out of the cab, and at first, all I could see was an endless stretch of sand. 

Taylor was already several steps ahead of me, kicking off his Toms and leaving them by a shallow wooden post. I followed suit, quickly inching out of my battered leather flip-flops and scrambling to join him in his barefooted trek toward the mouth of the Atlantic. He was walking in a measured but purposeful rhythm, like he knew exactly where he was going. Like he had planned this.

It seemed that I was always struggling to catch up to him, but I knew that he would wait for me. He always did. 

When we were kids and visited our grandparents’ house on the lake in the summertime, Isaac swam out as far as he could go simply because _I_ couldn’t. In my defense, I had just barely learned how to swim and was justifiably terrified of breaking away from the shore, but back then, my eldest brother jumped at any and every opportunity to cut me down—to take advantage of my weakness, of my smallness, of my innocence. He called me horrible names as he sat on a distant dock and swung his legs through the brackish water, the insults bringing me to tears that I was too stubborn to cry. But Taylor never chimed in. He never once contributed to the name-calling, even though Ike was probably right and I really _was_ just a baby, an ugly duckling in human form.

“Ignore him,” Taylor said, his voice quiet but stern as he urged me deeper into the water. 

I eventually made progress, and while my head dipped beneath the surface several times and threw me into a panic, he never left my side. Even then, his presence calmed me down like nothing else ever could. All it took was just one look into his sunny blue irises and I knew that everything would work out in the end.

As we stood before the frothy ocean tide that night, Taylor found my hand and laced our fingers together tightly. His eyes were locked on the crescent moon that dangled from the sky like an ornament, sparkling with starlight. I closed my eyes to savor the moment, to cherish the fact that although we had grown up, we hadn’t grown _apart_ , when another memory crept in unannounced.

“How do you do it?” I had asked my mom, perched at the edge of her bed with a bowl of lukewarm soup cradled in my lap. 

She had forced down as much as she could—which was only a few meager mouthfuls by that point—before handing it back to me with a look that said, _no more, please_.

“It’s simple, really,” she had replied as her eyes fell closed like tired shutters. Her skin was so pale that I could almost see her blue eyes darting back and forth behind bruised eyelids. “I just close my eyes and pretend I’m on a beach, with the wind in my hair and the sand between my toes, surrounded by everyone I love.”

I tried not to cry in her presence very often—we all tried so hard to be strong, for her and for ourselves— but it was impossible to ignore one of my greatest fears coming true right before my eyes. 

I was going to lose her.

She reassured us over and over again that she wasn’t in any pain, but in that moment, I felt it as if _I_ was the one with the fatal disease. It was an ache unlike anything I’d ever experienced. 

When she opened her eyes, they were filled with sympathy and a quiet acceptance that only made me cry harder. My body shook in time with my shuddering sobs, causing thin waves of broth to splash over the lip of the bowl and onto my jean-clad thighs. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her bony hand covering my own with as much feeble strength as she could manage. “It’ll all be okay soon.”

I remember wishing for the magical ability to suck the sickness from her body, to transport her to that beach, to take away all of the terrible things I knew she felt but never voiced. But I was helpless to do anything but stroke her hand as the tears continued to fall. Her skin was so soft and doughy, and she looked almost like a child then, someone closer to the beginning of life than the end.

Taylor's warm hand squeezed mine and pulled me back into the present moment. The tears in his eyes bobbed like the waves that were just barely visible on the horizon.

“I love you so much,” I murmured before I could stop myself, my arms enveloping his slender waist in a crushing embrace. 

He replied by kissing the side of my head, then my cheek, then the bridge of my nose, my entire body shivering in response to the varying sensations. How did he manage to be so endearing and so sensual all at once? 

When his lips finally met mine, we both seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, our knees buckling and casting us onto the pliant bed of sand. He gave me another long kiss before resting his hands on my hips, fingertips grazing the hem of my shirt as he stared into my eyes. 

“Make love to me,” he said in a voice so low and certain that it stole away my breath.

And that was when it dawned on me: love and sadness are sewn together seamlessly. Love is letting go; love is remembering; love is moving forward and smiling through the tears into someone else’s bright and shining eyes. You need one in order to have the other—and in that moment, I had both.

I was glad that we were seated, because I was slowly but surely unraveling at the thought of his raspy request. I shifted my trembling gaze to the ground and studied the fragments of seashells that peeked out between layers of sand like little reminders of life and what came after.

“Are you sure?” I asked quietly. “I’m… I mean, I’ve never…”

“Zac, it’s okay.” He nudged my chin up with his fingertips and gave me a comforting smile. “I figured as much. We can wait if you’re not ready.”

“It’s not that I’m not _ready_ ,” I mumbled through an embarrassed chuckle, my eyes drifting down to the evident hardness in my jeans. “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Not possible,” he said with a firm shake of his head, pulling me toward him once again.

We shed our clothes and arranged them along the sand beneath us. 

I used Taylor’s body to calm me down, focusing my attention on every piece of exposed skin that I could find. As I closed my lips around his erection, he threw his head back and let out a strangled cry. 

Although he was the one being pleasured, a ripple of joy rushed through me at the sound. He was typically so reserved, so composed, so entirely in command of his words and emotions, but I apparently had the ability to bring out a wild and animalistic side of him. As I continued, he took a fistful of my hair and yanked roughly, causing me to hiss through my teeth.

“Sorry,” he gasped without loosening his grip.

He sang out another moan before eventually releasing my hair and bringing two of my fingers to his lips. He inserted them slowly, his tongue sweeping across them in a sultry sort of dance, and I knew then exactly what he wanted me to do.

“God,” I choked out as my fingers moved inside of him.

He was tighter and hotter than anything I had ever felt.

He groaned appreciatively as my fingers pushed in past the knuckles, his muscles pulsing all around me. I lifted my head and worked my way up his torso, raining kisses down onto his stomach and his chest before placing my mouth against his parted lips.

“Are you ready?” I whispered.

He responded by reaching down and coaxing me inside of him.

It felt so good that I blacked out for a few brief seconds; I had never been this close to anyone before—physically, emotionally, or otherwise—and the intimacy of it all was overwhelming. Taylor placed his hand on my cheek in a show of tenderness, drawing me out of my daze. He was so beautiful that it almost hurt to watch him move beneath me, his own cheeks flushing red with unchained desire as I continued to thrust into him.

“Zac!” he cried out suddenly, his fingernails digging into the skin of my arm.

“Fuck.” I froze, my eyes widening in horror. “Did I hurt you?”

He shook his head and clutched my biceps even more tightly.

“Whatever you just did…” he breathed out, gazing at me through heavy-lidded eyes. “I’m gonna need you to do it again.”

Truth be told, I had no idea what I had just done, but I tried like hell to repeat it, to find that spot that made him arch his back and bite down on his lip in obvious enjoyment. 

In a perfect world, I would have made it last forever, but it was over far too soon. I was relieved to find that Taylor had been teetering on the edge for just as long as I had, the warmth of his release coating my stomach mere seconds after I let go inside of him.

Once we floated down from our respective clouds of euphoria and got lost in each other’s eyes, I tried to memorize every ragged breath, every subtle motion, and how perfectly we fit together in case this turned out to be my only chance.

As we rested there beneath the stars, I realized that having sex with him was even more incredible than all of my dirty, forbidden fantasies put together. Don’t get me wrong, the idea of fucking him on the kitchen counter or taking him against the wall of the shower still very much appealed to me, but this was so much better.

This was _real_.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

I flexed my fingers against the steering wheel and exhaled softly as I stared out through the rain-slick windshield onto the seemingly endless stretch of highway.

“Tired?” Taylor asked, his eyes catching mine in a way that made my heart skip.

I shook my head, fighting the urge to tell him that my sigh had been a mark of happiness, not fatigue. I had been driving for the last ten hours, and I should have been exhausted, but I wasn’t. Instead, my body was pumped full of adrenaline from the night before, and I felt like I had enough energy to run a marathon. 

I had no idea how Taylor managed to persuade Dana to pick us up from Cocoa Beach earlier that morning, considering it involved an hour-long detour in the opposite direction from our route back to Tulsa. Then again, my brother was nothing if not effortlessly persuasive. All it took was one look into his eyes or a few words in the musical rasp of his voice, and most people forgot even the most unchangeable constants, like their own name, or which way was up and which was down.

If I had been the one to make such a lofty request, Dana undoubtedly would have expected something from me in return, but all Taylor probably had to do was smile and his wish was promptly granted. His face, his voice, his entire physical being was a reflection of the beauty that existed within. 

Over the years, I’d heard so many people—fans and friends alike—describe him as ‘hot’ and ‘sexy’ and ‘fuckable’… and he certainly was all of those things. Anyone with eyes could see that. 

But did they know what it was like to have their arms around his waist, his heartbeat fluttering beneath their outstretched fingers? Did they know what it was like to feel him gasp against the skin of their neck, his breathing at once musical and ragged? Did they know what it was like to love him as much as I did? 

“Whatcha thinking about?” he inquired, turning down the volume of the static-filled radio so that he could hear me.

I realized then that I was more than a little worked up from my wandering train of thought. I could feel the blood moving swiftly from my groin to my cheeks, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he noticed. 

“I was just reflecting on how much fun I had this week,” I replied, attempting nonchalance. “How about you?”

“Honestly?” His voice grew low and raspy as he peered at me through a few loose strands of hair. “I can’t stop thinking about how good it felt to have you in me.”

My eyes widened a bit at his confession, and my jeans became almost unbearably tight at the memory of his head thrown back, his windblown hair teasing the cool white blanket of sand beneath us. As I relived those heavenly moments, he shifted a few inches closer to me and placed a hand firmly on my thigh, his thumb caressing the outline of my erection through my jeans.

 _Oh, dear God, please have mercy._ I was going to drive right off the road if he kept that up. 

“Guys?”

Taylor quickly withdrew his hand, pulling it back into his lap at the sound of Dana’s voice. She pushed past the curtain and came to stand between us, her palms resting casually against the backs of our seats. 

“Can we make a pit stop? Amy needs to use the bathroom and I’m _starving_. I think I saw a sign for Denny’s at the next exit.”

“Sure,” I replied with a shrug.

Once she had disappeared back into the main cabin, Taylor replaced his hand on my upper leg and drew small circles around my zipper, eliciting a sharp intake of breath every time his fingers brushed over a particularly sensitive area.

As I slowed the trailer to a stop in the corner of the Denny’s parking lot and lifted my eyes to his deep and smoldering gaze, I decided that I was starving, too, but not for food. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

“Man, I really miss your cooking,” I said to Taylor as I poked at the remaining half of my chili cheeseburger, which was overcooked and tasteless. 

I glanced around the table to find that everyone else seemed to be similarly disappointed by their food. It wasn’t like I’d had extremely high hopes to begin with—it was Denny’s, after all—but I had at least expected to be served something edible.

I was starting to feel the effects of all of the fast-food we had consumed within the last week. 

Most people in their early twenties were probably accustomed to living off of McDonald’s breakfasts, frozen dinners, and boxes of ramen noodles, but Taylor spoiled me daily with fresh, restaurant-quality meals that were more delicious _and_ more healthy. 

In the wake of our mother’s death, he spent weeks poring over her old recipe books. It was his own way of grieving, I supposed, but instead of collapsing into a heap of sadness, he rose up and made something beautiful out of our tragic loss.

Our mother treated us all with equal amounts of love and kindness, but Taylor had always been her unspoken favorite. He was attached to her in ways that Isaac and I never were. He refused to let her death break him, but I knew that aside from our father, he was the most affected by it. Their hearts were the same, alive with passion and tenderness and quiet grace. 

“Yeah, Tay’s the best. His chicken parm is gonna win awards someday,” Dana agreed, nodding emphatically. Her eyes danced between Taylor and Amy for a moment before lighting up with sudden inspiration. “You know, you two should go into business together and open up your own restaurant. I bet you’d make bank.”

“Oh, are you a chef?” Taylor asked, turning to Amy with a look of genuine interest.

“No, I’m just a line cook at a little Italian place,” Amy replied with a shake of her head. “I’m not creative enough to come up with my own recipes or anything like that.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Dana scoffed, nudging her cousin’s shoulder gently. “I swear, y’all are too modest for your own good.”

She made a valid point. 

They were easily two of the most attractive people I’d ever seen, but they didn’t flaunt it. Hell, they didn’t even seem to _realize_ it most of the time. 

In fact, Amy seemed like she was trying to hide her looks altogether that day, her small body swallowed up by a maroon sweatshirt and a pair of loose-fitting black jeans. The bruise on her face was healing, but unfortunately, that meant that it had become much more noticeable, lending her pale cheekbone a bluish-purple glow. Like a stain on an otherwise flawless piece of art, it definitely stood out and attracted a decent amount of attention, but I tried not to focus on it. Instead, I found her eyes and offered her a small smile, one that she gradually returned.

Beneath the table, Taylor’s leg brushed against mine, the motion startling and (unsurprisingly) arousing. If there had been any food in my mouth at that moment, it surely would have gotten stuck in my throat; his closeness, while exhilarating, was just as disarming. As I choked on nothing, Amy’s smile transformed into a look of mild curiosity, causing me to quickly break our gaze and redirect my attention to the tabletop. 

“Well, if everyone’s done eating, I guess I’ll go pay the check,” I said, sliding out of the booth and standing on shaky legs, all the while trying to ignore the three pairs of eyes that followed me.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

Since Dana and Amy had napped on and off for most of the day, they offered to split up the rest of the drive, leaving Taylor and me alone in the back of the trailer. We lounged on the couch for awhile and lazily watched a couple of _Saturday Night Live_ episodes from Taylor’s DVD collection. 

We had both started out sitting up, our shoulders and sides pressed together tightly, but Taylor eventually stretched out into a reclined position and rested his head in my lap. My hand was planted in his hair, where I toyed mindlessly with the fine, silky strands. He groaned quietly in response to my ministrations, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded as they flicked up toward mine.

“Want to move to the bedroom?” he whispered, and I nodded eagerly.

The room was cluttered with the girls’ scattered belongings, but we wasted no time in pushing them away into haphazard piles and settling onto the mattress. I barely had a chance to get situated before Taylor’s lips were on mine, his hands creeping beneath the flimsy cotton of my t-shirt and tickling my sides.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he admitted in a husky voice.

Every single one of his kisses still managed to take my breath away, still left me in awe of the fact that he wanted this just as much as I did. He nipped gently along my collarbone as his fingers lightly grazed my nipples before venturing down to play with the soft line of hair on my lower stomach.

It was a clichéd comparison, but I couldn’t help likening the way he touched me to the way he played music. He seemed entirely focused and lost in his own world as he ran his hands all over body. And much like an instrument, I gave myself up to him and responded instinctively to every calculated stroke. 

“Your fucking lips,” he murmured appreciatively, tracing their outline with his fingertips.

“What about them?” I asked.

“They’re perfect. I just love them.”

“Well, I love _all_ of you,” I replied, gaining confidence as I rolled on top of him so that he was pinned against the mattress.

I could feel him, so very hot and hard against me, our hips rocking together to create the best possible sort of friction. As he peeled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor, I took my time unbuttoning his jeans, teasing my fingers along the edges of the dark red boxer briefs he was wearing. His breathing hitched at the contact and he moaned, his hips bucking upward into my hand and asking for more.

With his much-needed assistance, I worked his jeans down his legs until he was able to kick them off. I took several moments to admire the flat plane of his torso, taut with anticipation and desire, enjoying the way the little blonde hairs stood to attention whenever I breathed across them. 

When I finally bowed my head and swept my tongue across the waistband of his underwear, he grabbed both of my shoulders and pressed down on them forcefully. Heeding his silent request, I pushed the unwanted fabric aside and lowered my mouth around him. I tried to appear confident, but there was still a part of me that felt clumsy and inadequate; I had never done this before, after all (I didn’t count the unfinished attempt from the previous night). I knew what felt good to _me_ , but that didn’t necessarily mean that I knew how to please him.

But despite my utter lack of experience, I must have done something right, because his hand tightened around my wrist and his breathing sped into a frenzy.

“I’m so close,” he warned softly.

He gave me more than I had been expecting, and I was horrified when I felt the last warm spurt escape from between my parted lips, but Taylor just laughed and pulled me up to face him. After giving me several slow, open-mouthed kisses, he calmly licked the stray droplets from my chin.

“That was incredible. _You_ are incredible,” he said, flashing me a smile that melted all of my worries away.

I nestled my head in the valley between his neck and shoulder and let out a sigh of absolute contentment. We were still several hundred miles away from Tulsa, but I had never felt closer to home.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Taylor spoke, his breath warm and sweet against my ear.

“Mmkay,” I mumbled, making absolutely no effort to move once I felt his lips collide gently with my own.

“We’re almost in Fort Smith,” he said, nudging my side. “We should probably clear out of here so Amy can pack up her stuff.”

When he drew away from me suddenly, I groaned and tried to pull him back down toward the mattress, but he just shook his head and laughed as he stood up, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. With a sigh, I eventually sat up and stretched my arms above my head, wondering how Taylor possessed the seemingly superhuman ability to function like a normal person on just a few hours of sleep. 

Meanwhile, I felt light-headed and sluggish, much like how I used to feel whenever I was sleep-deprived during our band’s touring days. Even though I wasn’t old enough to drink at the time, I must have appeared to be nursing a hangover as I grudgingly sat through various early-morning interviews and photo shoots, because every so often, a crew member would catch my eye and shoot me a sympathetic smile. People on the outside tended to assume that since we were a group of young, male “rockstars,” we naturally loved to party and get wasted and have wild and crazy hookups all the time, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. They would have been sorely disappointed to learn that practically all we did during our precious few hours of downtime was _sleep_. 

Taylor must have sensed that I wasn’t feeling well, because he leaned down and captured my mouth in a deep and lingering kiss. 

“We’ll be home soon,” he promised, brushing the hair from my forehead.

Still stuck in a groggy haze, I nodded and left the room behind him, bowing my head to shield my eyes from the buttery sunlight streaming through the RV’s rectangular windows. Within moments, I had collapsed onto the couch and was lulled back into semi-slumber by the gravelly sound of wheels churning against pavement. 

As I faded in and out of consciousness, my dreams were murky and disjointed, unfolding in tired pieces like a slow-motion movie. When a timid hand made contact with my wrist, I felt so detached from myself that I had to pry my eyes open to make sure that I hadn’t imagined it. 

“Sorry to wake you, but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye,” Amy said. 

She struggled beneath the weight of her heavy duffel bag, her eyes bleary but still all too easy to get lost in. I ran a hand through my unruly hair and smiled, and then I carefully slid the strap of the bag off of her trembling arm. 

“Here, let me help you with that.”

She didn’t protest as I hoisted her luggage onto my shoulder and followed her out into the crisp morning air. When we reached the top of the driveway, I set her bag on the doorstep and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m really glad I met you,” she murmured, giving my waist a little squeeze. “You have my number, so if you ever want to hang out, you know where to find me…”

“Me too.” I smoothed my hands across her back and couldn’t help noticing just how breakable she felt in my arms. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I’ll try.” She held onto me for about a minute more before finally stepping out of the embrace and reaching for her bag. “Bye, Zac.”

Before disappearing into the house, she turned on her heel and waved, flashing me a small smile. But I honestly couldn’t tell if that smile was a mark of true happiness or something else entirely.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

When Taylor and I arrived home, it was only just past 8 AM, but it felt much later than that. 

The house looked exactly as we’d left it, and yet everything _felt_ different. It was truly as though I was seeing the world through brand-new eyes. The sea-foam green paint on the walls of the kitchen seemed to pop, although we hadn’t touched it up since we first decided on the color change two years ago. The living room felt especially warm and cozy, like the furniture had become even more inviting in our brief absence. Even my unmade bed, in all its wrinkled glory, seemed changed somehow. 

_Is this a consequence of being in love?_ I wondered as I sank down into the folds of my plush comforter and let my head fall back against the pillows. _Am I going to have to reintroduce my new heart to the rest of my old, familiar life?_

It was undeniably strange to admit, even just to myself, that I’d fallen in love with my brother. At the same time, I couldn’t picture myself with anyone else, nor could I imagine anything more perfect than his body pressed tightly against mine.

Still, I doubted that the truth would sit well with many other people in our intertwined lives. What would our friends think? What would Isaac think? Or our father? Not to mention our poor mother, whom I was convinced was watching over us?

I closed my eyes to push away those dark, unsettling thoughts, choosing instead to focus on happier things, like the way Taylor smelled and the way he smiled whenever he kissed me. It was then that he promptly appeared, as if he had been summoned, his raspy voice carrying toward me from the doorway of my room.

“You know what’s even better than bed?” he asked.

“What?” I cracked my eyelids open to meet his wide grin.

“Breakfast in bed.”

Oh, he was entirely too good to be true. Then again, his presence always felt like a gift that I hadn’t done much to deserve. 

He wouldn’t let me help him cook—he hardly ever did—so I stripped off my jeans and hoodie and made myself comfortable between the sheets, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before he joined me. Sure enough, he reappeared in what seemed like no time at all, approaching the bed with a tray filled with homemade breakfast burritos and freshly brewed coffee. 

We ate together quietly, and I tried not to make too much of a mess as I inhaled bite after ravenous bite of scrambled eggs and sausage. Soon, I had all but licked my plate clean and Taylor claimed that he was stuffed as well, so we set the remains of our breakfast aside and focused our attention on each other. 

“Love you.” I gasped as his mouth worked along the sensitive skin of my neck, his fingers drifting dangerously close to the tent in my boxers. 

He smiled, curling his hand around me through the fabric, his kisses turning into barely perceptible bites as he shifted even closer.

“Do you?” He tugged my boxers down and began rubbing his palm along my shaft in slow, lazy circles.

“I really fucking do,” I groaned in earnest, my hips moving against him of their own accord.

“I love you more,” he whispered against my ear.

I sincerely doubted that, but I didn’t dare challenge him in fear of shattering the utter perfection of the moment. Instead, I ran my hand down the bare skin of his back, feeling him shiver slightly beneath my touch. Knowing that I was capable of turning him on gave me such a thrill; it made me feel powerful in a world where I was otherwise weak and vulnerable. It made me feel needed and wanted and loved.

“Can we try something new?” He paused the teasing motion of his hand and locked eyes with me intently.

I smiled at his phrasing, resisting the urge to point out that _everything_ we did was still new to me, even basic things like kissing and touching, which we definitely weren’t strangers to anymore. Nonetheless, I bit my lip and nodded eagerly. 

“Can I ride you?” he asked huskily, a heated blush rising to his cheeks. 

I tried to respond, but my pulse sped up so rapidly that I was rendered speechless, and all that came out was a strangled moan. 

“Is that a yes?” He grinned again, flattening his hand against my lower stomach, which had grown unbearably tight with arousal. 

“Yes,” I finally managed to breathe out. “God, yes.”

The mental image alone of what he wanted to do to me was so intoxicating that I grabbed him and kissed him deeply, inviting his tongue into my mouth with ease. As we kissed, my fingers inched beneath the waistband of his sweatpants and danced along the pulsing crown of his erection. I had just started coaxing his pants down his long, lean legs when the telephone rang, causing him to bury his head against my shoulder and expel a frustrated sigh.

“Remind me again why we decided to keep that fucking landline?” I muttered.

“If they really need to talk to us, they can call back later,” he replied firmly.

As our luck would have it, whoever it was did indeed call back… but not much later. 

Within moments, the phone was ringing again, and while the rational side of me knew it wasn’t actually ringing any louder than before, the pissed-off, lust-driven side was convinced it sounded much more shrill than it had mere seconds ago. After a few more distracted kisses, Taylor eventually gave in and answered the phone, a decision that I supported only on the condition that he took it off the hook for the rest of the day. In fact, I almost asked him if we could just unplug the damn thing _forever_ , but then I remembered that he preferred to use the house phone for work-related calls for some reason.

When he left the room, I rolled onto my back and fixed my eyes on the ceiling, trying to control my labored breathing. Maybe it was just Ike or our dad, wanting to check in with us after our trip. Or maybe Dana had called to inform us that we’d accidentally left something behind in the RV. 

Whatever it was surely couldn’t have been _that_ important, so when ten minutes passed, and yet another ten ticked by with no sign of Taylor, I became unbearably antsy. My dick was still throbbing, just begging for relief, but I refused to give in until he returned. 

Rather than allow my thoughts to drift back to Taylor (which would inevitably make me more worked up than I already was), I sat up and diverted them to the guitar case propped up in the corner of my bedroom. I couldn’t remember the last time I had played it. Like I’d done with so many things since our mother’s death, I’d let it waste away and gather dust instead of facing it. 

But maybe our recent getaway had helped ease my pain, or maybe Taylor himself had healed me. Either way, I was overcome with a sudden burst of energy, followed closely by the desire to create something.

However, once the instrument was actually in my hands, the polished wood smooth and cool beneath my quivering palms, I felt myself hesitate. I knew that I was a decent drummer, but I’d never been very confident when it came to playing the guitar. Whereas Taylor excelled at everything he put his mind to, I considered myself more of a one-trick pony. 

Our mother had persuaded me to give the guitar a shot many years ago—she’d even given me her old one to practice on—and it was the calm determination in her loving gaze that kept me going whenever I faltered. I closed my eyes and was surprised by how easy it was to channel her strength. It was as if she was actually in the room with me, her quiet words of encouragement spurring me on, and before I knew it, I found my way to one of her favorite songs.

_Come a little bit closer_   
_Hear what I have to say_   
_Just like children sleeping_   
_We could dream this night away_

_But there's a full moon rising_   
_Let's go dancing in the light_   
_We know where the music's playing_   
_Let's go out and feel the night_

_Because I'm still in love with you_   
_I want to see you dance again_   
_Because I'm still in love with you_   
_On this harvest moon_

_When we were strangers_   
_I watched you from afar_   
_When we were lovers_   
_I loved you with all my heart_

_But now it's getting late_   
_And the moon is climbing high_   
_I want to celebrate_   
_See it shining in your eye_

_Because I'm still in love with you_   
_I want to see you dance again_   
_Because I'm still in love with you_   
_On this harvest moon…_ *****

I was so caught up in the song that I didn’t notice Taylor beside me until I felt his hand on my knee, just inches from where the guitar rested. 

His eyes shimmered brightly with tears, but he was smiling. I set the guitar on the floor and ducked my head, my cheeks burning as a few thick strands of hair fell across my line of vision. I was more than a little rusty and I hadn’t been even remotely focused on precision; surely he had noticed my many mistakes. 

“That was so perfect,” he whispered, his fingers moving softly up my leg.

I wanted to ask him who he had been talking to and what had taken him so long, but all coherent thoughts fell away when he wrapped his arms around my waist and lowered me onto the bed, covering me in kisses. 

As Taylor kissed his way down my body, I couldn’t do a thing but watch him. The way he moved was mesmerizing, his lips forging a determined pathway down my neck, across my shoulders, and all along my chest. When he stopped and swirled his tongue around my navel, my breath caught in my throat, my hands rooting themselves in tufts of soft, blonde hair. My attempts to be as gentle and tender as he was with me were always thwarted in the end by unstoppable desire.

If Taylor hadn’t been so amazingly adept at distracting me from everything except just how good he made me feel, I would have asked him about that phone call. But as it were, I could barely manage to breathe correctly, let alone string words together. The moment his warm mouth met the waistband of my boxers, I was done for. He drew the thin fabric away from my body slowly, kissing along my thighs as he undressed me, greeting every new exposed area of skin with a smile. 

Once I was naked before him, though, my blissful bubble was burst by the all too familiar pangs of self-consciousness. I had been plagued by a disparaging self-image from a very young age, thanks to Isaac’s offensive running commentary. 

My eldest brother laughed at me not once, not a handful of times, but _constantly_ as we were growing up. It wasn’t my fault that most of my clothes were hand-me-downs and therefore fit me poorly, but Ike made me feel like it was. He rarely missed an opportunity to announce that I wore t-shirts three times my actual size in order to hide my lingering pouches of baby fat. He also frequently told me that I had a pig’s nose and sausages for fingers. 

It took me awhile, but I finally learned that the nasty words he threw at me were really just misdirected punches at himself. A late bloomer who was unfortunately cursed in the looks department, with acne, crooked teeth, and hair that simply refused to be tamed, Isaac couldn’t possibly compete with Taylor, so he tore me down instead. 

Thankfully, he didn’t stay that way forever. 

Once he started dating Claire, he stopped being so mean and hateful. Being with her seemed to mellow him out immensely; he dropped the bully act and tried to be the type of brother he should have been from the start. Eventually, he even turned into someone I could call a friend. 

I suppose that love makes us all strive to be better people—stronger, kinder, more aware of those around us. Yet even though I knew deep-down that Isaac’s anger all those years ago had little to do with me and a lot to do with his own sense of inadequacy, the bitter feelings his comments left behind were difficult to shake, even to this day. 

Don’t we always pay more attention to the bad things people have to say about us than the good? It’s all too easy to brush compliments aside, but insults stick like adhesive bandages that remain long after the wounds themselves have healed. 

I hadn’t spoken any of these unsettling thoughts out loud, but Taylor responded to them anyway, coaxing both of my hands into his and warming me with a look of loving intensity. There was a sparkling hunger in his eyes that didn’t make me feel like prey at all, but rather like the most important person in the world. Like someone he wanted to please and protect all at once.

He left a long, sensuous kiss on my lips before lowering his mouth around my erection. I breathed out a shaky groan of satisfaction and fought the urge to close my eyes. It was an automatic impulse that I really needed to learn how to control because the sight of him going down on me was just too perfect to miss. In fact, _everything_ he did was entirely too perfect, which was why that tiny, disbelieving piece of me still felt the need to memorize every single detail of our intimate encounters on the off-chance that none of this was really real at all.

He drew away from me briefly, giving us both a moment to breathe, and I felt the coarse rustling of fabric as he kicked off his pants. 

“Will you?” he asked after pulling a small bottle from the depths of his pocket and pressing it into my open palm.

The barely discernible weight of the little tube let me know that it was less than half full, and I blushed as I struggled to uncap it. I was keenly aware that we hadn’t used any extra lubrication during our first time just a couple of days prior. That hadn’t mattered much to me at the time, but had it made the experience less enjoyable for _him_? Was this his way of letting me know? 

Before I could express my concerns, he placed his lips against my ear, his voice on the cusp of a low, throaty growl. 

“Please… I want you.”

I slowly coated two of my fingers in the cool liquid, giving myself some time to adjust as though I were the one about to be penetrated. His pain was mine too, after all. But Taylor showed no signs of discomfort as I slid one finger into him, followed closely by another. I knew that he was impossibly aroused when he tossed his head back and parted his lips to unleash a breathy moan, his erection straining against my thigh.

“Put some on yourself,” he urged through half-lidded eyes as I increased the rhythm of my fingers. 

With my free hand, I formed a slick fist around myself and was keenly aware that his eyes were fully open now, following my every move. Once it dawned on me that I had never touched myself in someone else’s presence before—let alone my very own brother’s—my heart seemed to leap into my throat, my mouth went dry, and I felt myself seize up. 

But once again, Taylor destroyed my silent insecurities before they had a chance to materialize.

“You’re so hot,” he murmured, closing his hand around mine in a bid to keep stroking in perfect time to the rhythm that my fingers had found inside of him.

If I looked into his clear blue eyes any longer, I was sure to explode right then and there, so I bit my lip and lifted my gaze to the ceiling. 

“Ready?” His thumb caressed the bottom of my chin, sweeping gently across my jaw.

I nodded, withdrawing my fingers and wiping them on the bedsheets as casually as I could manage. 

Clearly, though, I wasn’t ready. 

I don’t think that anything could have adequately prepared me for the sight of Taylor straddling my thighs and sinking down on me in a single, flawless motion. It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen. There was a rolling wave of heat, a gripping tightness, and an almost unbearable friction—but beneath all of the wonderful surface pleasure was something even more beautiful: 

A deep and seamless love.

His motions were as fluid as they were passionate, and it wasn’t long before I felt the familiar tightening in my lower stomach.

“God, Tay, you feel so good,” I croaked out, placing my hands on his hips. “I think I’m gonna…”

“Me too,” he moaned, closing his eyes as he continued to rock against me.

The moment his orgasm took hold of his body, I handed myself over to the blinding light of absolute euphoria. As I came, Taylor leaned in and planted a trail of soft kisses along the trembling valley of my neck, his muscles still clenching all around me. 

After pressing his lips firmly to mine, he carefully moved off of me and rolled onto his side, draping an arm across my chest. He drew lazy circles around each of my nipples, sparking little electric currents with the pads of his fingers.

“Can I ask you something?” I spoke up once I managed to find my voice again. 

“Of course.”

“Why me?”

“What do you mean?” He shifted his weight onto one elbow and trapped my eyes in a curious stare.

“I mean… you could have anyone. What made you want to be with me?”

He moved his hand to my pillow and fingered the loose strands of my hair resting against it, his lips pursed together in thought.

“Things between us just feel so incredible… so _right_. I love you in so many different ways, you know? You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. And…” His voice broke then, as did our gaze. “I know you’d never try to hurt me.”

“I can’t think of a single person who would ever try to hurt you,” I said, chuckling softly. 

“Really?” His eyes snapped up, finding mine again. “Because I can.”

The pain in his voice tunneled straight through me, and I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer. He relaxed into my touch, his body becoming limp and boneless, a stark contrast to how strong he had been just moments before. His vague statement only added to my mounting curiosity, but I couldn’t bring myself to poke around for answers. Instead, I stroked his hair and fell into a memory backed by the languid beating of our hearts.

For such a sensitive person, Taylor really didn’t like to cry. 

Despite his fervent pleas for a dog, our parents gave him a cat for his eighth birthday (they too were captured by my brother’s charm and were rarely able to deny him anything, but since our dad was allergic to dogs, having one in the house wasn’t an option). He named her Lily after the little flower-shaped insignia etched into her collar. She was an unusually friendly cat in general, but she was especially smitten with Taylor. Every night, she curled up beside his pillow, her tiny green eyes blinking up at me from her spot on his bottom bunk, just daring me to disturb his slumber. 

It was clear that she loved him more than anything else in the world.

Three short years later, a neighbor found Lily by the side of the road and carried her back to our house. Bright stains of barely-dried blood stood out against her snow-white fur, and her eyes were open but eerily still and vacant, like the eyes of a plastic doll. We were eating dinner when we received the news, and Taylor’s fork slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor, his mouth frozen in the shape of a scream although not a single sound escaped.

We buried the cat in our backyard, and even though I’d never really bonded with her, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. But Taylor’s eyes were dry and focused somewhere in the distance, his curtain of hair pulled across his face, his hands pushed deep within the pockets of his baggy jeans.

Later that night, when we were tucked into our respective bunks, I heard Taylor’s loud, muffled sobs. I knew there was nothing I could do to bring Lily back, but I climbed down the ladder of our bunk bed and sat on the edge of his mattress, thinking that maybe just a hug or the simple presence of a warm body would provide some sort of comfort. But as soon as I called out his name, he rolled swiftly toward the wall and pretended to be asleep. When I crawled beneath his covers anyway, he surprised me by slowly turning toward me, burying his head in my shoulder, and letting me hold him. I stayed with him all night, rubbing patterns up and down his back through his shirt, feeling his chest rise and fall against mine with every breath he sucked in and expelled. 

I wasn’t sure what—or rather, _who_ —had caused his sadness this time, but whatever it was, I couldn’t stand to watch it break him. He looked like he’d lost Lily all over again.

“You okay?” I asked after a few long moments had passed.

I felt him nod against my neck.

“Want to take a shower with me?” 

“I’d love to,” came his quiet reply.

( ***** Song credit goes to ‘Harvest Moon’ by Neil Young.)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

I left the bathroom in a daze, securing Taylor’s black terrycloth robe around me and breathing in his soft, alluring scent. 

A wave of pleasure washed over me at the recent memory of being pushed gently against the shower wall, one of my brother’s strong hands on the back of my head to prevent it from colliding with the tile as he kissed me. While we made out beneath the falling water, I was tempted by thoughts involving plenty of other things we could do together in such an intimate space, but I somehow managed to control myself and focus on the task of actually getting clean. 

It didn’t surprise me at all to learn that Taylor was an excellent shower companion. 

He paid more attention to my body than I ever did, making sure that every inch of skin was touched by the soap’s foamy caress. Then his hands were in my hair, his fingers swiftly unraveling the impressive knots and tangles as he pressed the occasional kiss to the side of my neck. How he managed to be so sexy and so comforting all at once was still such a mystery to me, but he certainly had it down to a science. 

It was only mid-afternoon, but I felt myself slipping into a dreamlike trance as I made the short trek back to my bedroom. I probably should have unpacked and tidied up my room (or at the very least, changed my sheets), but I did none of those things. Instead, I tugged on the cleanest pair of boxers I could find and fell face-first onto the bed, still enveloped in the cozy warmth of Taylor’s robe.

I woke up in pitch-black darkness, the mountain of fabric on the floor by my feet letting me know that I had kicked the covers off while I was sleeping. As I carried the bundle of blankets and sheets down the hall to the washing machine, the unmistakable aroma of Taylor’s roasted chicken wafted overhead like a familiar breeze. 

He liked to relax in the living room during breaks between cooking, and sure enough, there he was, his lean body draped across the couch while he turned pages of his book. His features were nothing short of animated, his eyebrows arching and furrowing as though he was experiencing the same emotions as the fictional characters whose world he was so aptly immersed in. Every so often, his foot tapped out a lazy rhythm against the couch cushion. 

Taylor was such a calm soul, but he also always needed to be moving. He had been that way for as long as I could remember.

I was torn between joining him and retreating back into my bedroom to chip away at my growing list of chores. I wanted to spend time with him, but I didn’t want him to feel obligated to hang out with me during every waking opportunity. After all, we had spent the last week in very close quarters, and even though we’d rarely been allowed a moment alone on our trip, I was nervous about appearing too desperate and needy. I supposed that was a consequence of developing a romantic attachment to the person I lived with (who also happened to be my brother): normal, everyday actions that I’d never had to think twice about suddenly took on an entirely new meaning.

Finally choosing to simply bite the bullet and risk looking like a hopeless, lovesick fool, I crossed the room and settled into the empty space by his long legs. He scooted over and smiled up at me, pushing his bangs from his eyes.

“Sleep well?” he asked as he set his book down on the coffee table.

“A little too well,” I replied with a small frown.

I had planned on being at least semi-productive during my last full day of freedom so that I wouldn’t have a mountain of dirty laundry and other dreaded tasks to do throughout the work week, but instead, I’d spent nearly all of it sleeping. 

“Were you able to get any rest?” I asked in return.

“Nah. Even after that _amazing_ workout earlier,” he paused to lift his eyebrows in an adorably suggestive manner, “I really wasn’t all that tired. I don’t know if you’re even hungry right now or not, but I was in the mood for chicken, so I decided to pick one up at the store while you were napping. It should be ready in about ten minutes.”

“Mmm, that sounds great.” 

I leaned my head against the back of the couch, my mouth all but watering at the thought.

With a teasing grin, Taylor reached up and tugged at the collar of my—or rather, _his_ —robe until I was completely on top of him and we were face to face. He smelled so good, like peppermint and coffee beans, so fresh and entirely desirable. As his eyes met mine, I was happy to see not a single trace of the darkness I’d caught in their beautiful depths several hours prior.

“I love your hair like this,” he said, combing his fingers through the strands.

“You’re a fan of my bed head, huh?” I meant to laugh, but a little groan of pleasure escaped in its place as his lips grazed the side of my neck.

“Oh, I’m a big fan. It’s so sexy,” he murmured into my ear, the warmth of his breath causing my heart rate to pick up.

Again, I hadn’t wanted to appear insatiably horny or overeager—after all, it had only been a matter of hours since we were last together—but the sound of his raspy voice just _did things_ to me. Things that were totally out of my control. I couldn’t stop myself from pressing my lips to his with all of the passion and heat that I was feeling. Taylor gasped into my mouth, his grip on my waist tightening as our tongues danced together. He tasted even better than he smelled, like an irresistible dessert that I wanted to at once savor and devour. As much as I wanted to stop and treasure every single moment that I spent with him, I always craved more of them. 

Just as he moved to undo the belt of my robe, the kitchen timer went off, blaring through the tranquil silence all around us. Taylor huffed his frustration, but I pretended not to hear the loud, abrasive beeping and urged him to keep going.

“I’d better pull the roast out of the oven before it burns,” he breathed, gently nudging me off of him so that he could stand.

When I pouted, he chuckled and gave me one more long kiss before heading for the kitchen.

I nestled into the spot he had just vacated and closed my eyes. Despite having slept most of the day away, I still felt groggy and fatigued. Just as I was falling into another needless bout of slumber, I heard Taylor utter a few sharp words that startled me out of my haze. 

My curiosity getting the best of me, I padded toward the kitchen but froze in my tracks as soon as I reached the doorway. Taylor was leaning with his hip pressed against the counter, a serving spoon in one hand and his cell phone in the other. As the minutes ticked by, I watched his expression transform from discomfort to outright disbelief, and while he remained silent as he listened to whoever was on the line, I could almost _feel_ how upset he was. 

My conscience eventually kicked in like a swift punch to the gut, reminding me that if our roles were reversed, Taylor certainly wouldn’t have resorted to eavesdropping. As I disappeared through the hallway toward my bedroom, I felt the flutters of arousal and anticipation that had been swirling through me harden into a knot of anxiety. 

I loved and trusted Taylor more than anyone else in the world, but I couldn’t deny the fact that he was hiding something from me.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

Dinner was strange, to say the very least. 

The food was delicious, cooked to perfection as it always was, but it was a genuine struggle to force down more than a few half-hearted bites. Taylor played a similar game with his chicken and potatoes, pushing them around on his plate instead of actually consuming much of anything. 

We somehow kept a conversation going for the duration of the meal, but it was clear that we were both too frazzled and distracted to say anything of true importance. The tension loomed between us like a stormcloud, heavy with the weight of unspoken things.

When it was clear that we had eaten as much as we could manage, I shooed him out of the room and tackled the small pile of dishes by the sink, making the water several notches hotter than I normally did in an attempt to burn away some of my unease. 

Once I was finished, I entered the living room to find Taylor stretched out on the couch again—only this time, instead of reading, he had his eyes fixed on the ceiling. His hands were curled into loose fists at his sides and he looked the opposite of relaxed. He shifted his legs to make room for me, placing them across my lap when I sat down beside him.

“Tay?” I tried for a cool approach but my voice cracked, revealing just how edgy I was.

“Hmm?” He shut his eyes for a moment, the edges of his mouth twitching as I tickled his bare feet with my fingertips.

“Who was on the phone earlier?”

“Tristan,” he replied after a long pause.

“Your friend from the restaurant?”

“Well, not anymore, apparently,” he said with a miserable little laugh. “He just got fired.”

“Shit. What happened?”

I didn’t know Tristan well enough to have a firm opinion about him one way or the other, but he had always been pleasant enough during our brief exchanges. Like Taylor, he was friendly and laidback, not to mention easy on the eyes. Then again, it seemed that everyone who worked at Fleming’s was way above average-looking, a conclusion I had reached after attending one of his fancy work functions shortly after he was hired. I had left that shindig feeling even more mediocre and self-conscious than usual. 

“Tristan has been… having a rough time lately,” Taylor began slowly. “Blair, his fiancée, broke up with him last month, and it hit him pretty hard. He’s such a good guy, but lately he’s gotten into drinking, drugs… that whole scene. Anyway, I guess Lorie finally got fed up with having to cover his shifts when he failed to show up for work, or having to send him home when he showed up wasted. So she let him go.”

“Wow. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Yet while I really _was_ sorry that Taylor’s friend had gotten dumped and lost his job, I couldn’t help letting out a silent sigh of relief. Given how distressed Taylor had looked earlier, I had been expecting something much worse than what he had just told me.

“Yeah, and Blair went back on her word to let him stay at the house they bought together, not even giving him time to find an apartment in his price range, so he’s currently homeless on top of everything else. God, it’s such a fucking mess, and it’s all my fault,” he muttered helplessly, his tone thick with genuine remorse as he directed his gaze to the ground.

“What do you mean? How is it your fault?” I dropped my hands into my lap, narrowing my eyes at him even though I knew he could no longer see me. “What could you possibly have to do with his life falling apart?”

“Blair broke it off with him because…”

Taylor stopped suddenly, sucking in a forlorn pocket of air. When he smoothed his hands across his jean-clad thighs, I saw that they were shaking. It was deeply unsettling to watch him lose control like this, but I swallowed the lump in my throat and vowed not to let my own fears spiral out of control until I knew exactly what we were dealing with.

“…because she found out that he’s in love with me.”

“Are you serious?”

Under normal circumstances, I would have been embarrassed by the way my voice cracked and inched up an octave, but Taylor’s confession had made it clear that the situation was anything _but_ normal.

He nodded morosely.

“Wow… I wasn’t expecting… I mean, wow. I guess I didn’t realize you two were that close.”

Dropping my eyes to my lap, I picked at the fringes of the blanket draped across the arm of the couch. It was always a challenge for me to keep my emotions in check, but it was proving to be an even greater struggle to hide just how badly his recent revelation had unhinged me. 

“Well, we haven’t really been close at all. Not lately, at least. But there was a time when we were… involved.”

I studied him quietly, waiting for him to continue.

“It started back in April, when a fan approached me at the restaurant and went on and on about how crushed she was that we weren’t a band anymore. I guess I should have been used to people coming up to me and expressing their condolences, but for some reason, her words cut straight into my heart and I just lost it. Not in front of a random stranger, of course,” he added quickly, noticing that my eyes had grown wide with shock. “But I spent the rest of my shift in a funk, just thinking about how things used to be and would never be again. Anyway, Tristan took me out for drinks after work to try to cheer me up, and one thing led to another, and…”

Taylor was the one who broke our gaze this time, his cheeks flushing brightly.

“And… well, we ended up kissing in the backseat of his car for awhile before getting each other off.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see it coming, and I know I should have stopped it before it started.” Taylor paused, his lips molding into a frown. “I mean, not only did we work together, but he had a steady girlfriend. Being with him was wrong on so many different levels; I’m well aware of that. But it had been so long since I’d let anyone in, and I found that I couldn’t stop him or myself. Not that first time, or all the other times that followed.”

The jealousy I had been trying to stave off washed over me with unexpected force. 

While I knew that I couldn’t possibly be the only person Taylor had ever been with, it was torturous to imagine his perfect lips wrapped around somebody else. I shut my eyes in an attempt to block out the unwanted images, but sadly, the darkness only served to illuminate my fears. I was made even more upset by the realization that he hadn’t told me any of this until just now. He must have felt my pain, because he chose that moment to slide his hand into my own, our palms fitting perfectly together.

“After a couple of months of sneaking around, it all became too much to handle. I hated knowing that I was helping him cheat on his unsuspecting girlfriend, so I finally told him that I was done. I was backing out. Tristan didn’t want that, though, insisting that the person he really wanted to be with was _me_ and that he needed to break up with Blair. So what did he do that very same weekend?” 

Taylor laughed, the tinny sound striking the wall behind us before dying on impact. 

“He proposed to her.”

I leaned my head back against the plush fabric of the couch, struggling to take it all in. It was almost impossible for me to believe that my sensible, responsible peacemaker of a brother had gotten involved in such a mess. Then again, just because Taylor appeared uncomplicated on the surface didn’t mean he was actually a simple person. Our lives had never been simple or normal, and Taylor had to have it even worse than Isaac and me. Not only the most gifted out of the three of us, he was also clearly the best looking.

It was no secret that in our band’s heyday, our fanbase was nothing short of obsessed and rabid. Our individual and collective safety had been compromised on more occasions than I could count, Taylor being the most popular target of such encounters. He’d had his clothes grabbed and sometimes even ripped off of his body by the hands of screaming fans (isn’t there always such a fine line between adoration and absolute insanity?). He was usually able to get away unscathed, but there were times when he wasn’t quite so lucky. In fact, he wore a permanent scar on his right forearm from one crazy night in Cleveland years ago, when a drunk, wild-eyed man had charged at him with a pocketknife for no apparent reason other than deranged, deep-seated jealousy. Yet Taylor handled all the drama—and even the danger—with a unique sense of calmness, refusing to let a handful of fucked-up people get the best of him. 

I could tell that he was trying to exercise that same coping mechanism now, but the troubled look in his eyes let me know that he wasn’t entirely successful. 

“As you can probably imagine, that put a strain on our relationship, both professional and personal,” he continued. “I guess he thought that he was fixing things; that he could somehow fix _himself_ as long as he married a woman, even if she was someone he didn’t truly love. And hey, it was hell of a lot easier than coming out to his friends and homophobic family. But if you ask me, he took the coward’s way out. When Tristan went to management and requested to be put on an opposite work schedule from me to avoid being around me, I pretty much decided to write him out of my life altogether.”

“Then, after several weeks of not seeing or speaking to each other, he appeared by my car at the end of one of my closing shifts. He told me that he couldn’t stop thinking about me, that he was still in love with me, and that he had come clean with Blair about everything. I was happy for him at first, proud of him for finally being honest, but it wasn’t long before he started tearing into me, flat out blaming me for ruining his life.”

His grip on my hand tightened, and I caught a faint, shining trace of tears in his eyes.

“He wasn’t in his right mind that night. He was obviously drunk, and God only knows if he’d taken anything else. But for someone who claimed to love me, his words were filled with so much anger, so much _hate_ , and that was really hard for me to deal with.”

“You know that what he said isn’t true though, right?” I cut in, thumbing a circular pattern across his fair, unblemished skin. “You didn’t force him to have feelings for you or make him live a lie, and you definitely didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”

Taylor nodded slowly. 

“I know. And I think Tristan realizes that now too, which is why he won’t stop calling me. In a way, though, I _am_ to blame… at least partially. I never should have gotten mixed up with him in the first place, you know? I like him as a friend and as a person, and I loved being with him because I was able to escape from the sadness of losing Mom for awhile, but I’m not in love with him. I never was. I shouldn’t have ever let him think that we were anything more than just a fling.”

I tugged on his wrist then, pulling him up to me so that our faces were nearly touching. The anguish in his eyes and voice was increasing by the second, and I couldn’t stand to see him beat himself up any longer. I leaned in and brushed my lips against his, rubbing my free hand up and down his back to soothe him.

While I failed to relate to most of what Taylor had just told me, I understood his wish to turn back time and change certain things. There were so many moments from my own past that I was terribly ashamed of, especially when our mother’s health was failing: The evenings that I chose to spend in the solitude of my bedroom instead of in her presence, because it hurt too much to look into her once vibrant eyes and see the dark clouds of resignation etched into their depths. The days when I actually got mad at her for feeling too weak to even lift her head from the pillow, convinced that she was giving up. 

I closed my eyes and threaded my fingers through his, suddenly needing someone to hold onto just as much as he did.

“It probably wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve ever done, but we all make mistakes,” I spoke eventually, opening my eyes in an attempt to blink away the memories. “And honestly, Tay? It’s kind of a relief to know that you’re not perfect. I just hope…”

I bit my lip, debating whether or not to go on. He lifted his eyebrows and shot me a questioning look that wasn’t demanding at all, but awash with genuine concern.

“I just really hope that _I_ am more than just a fling,” I finished softly.

“Of course you are,” Taylor responded immediately, bringing our entwined hands to his lips and planting kisses between the valleys of my knuckles. “You’re so much more than that to me, Zac. You’re everything. What we have is so amazing, and I don’t want Tristan or anyone else getting in the way of that. Which is why he can’t crash here with us, even though he’s in desperate need of a place to stay.”

I let out a long breath, relief flooding my whole body in a cleansing sort of way, making me feel physically lighter than I’d felt all evening. Even if the arrangement was only temporary, the thought of living in such close quarters with Taylor’s ex was too awkward to fathom. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Taylor had offered him our spacious guest bedroom out of the sheer kindness of his heart. My brother was known to put the happiness of others before his own, even when it came to people who had wronged him. So it was a great comfort to hear such reassuring words, particularly when my insecurities were at an all time high.

“Plus,” he whispered in a husky voice, resting his forehead against my own. “When we’re in bed together, I’d like to reserve the right to be as loud as I want.”

The shiver of desire that coursed through me grew even more intense and electric when he kissed me. He had said _when_ , not _if,_ and in his tone was a casual certainty that made me feel so loved and wanted.

“I’d like that too,” I answered with a grin. “But where does that leave Tristan?”

 _Not that it’s your problem_ , I wanted to add but didn’t. In my opinion, Tristan hardly deserved Taylor’s friendship, let alone his help, but if I knew my brother at all, he wouldn’t stop until he came up with some sort of viable solution.

He raked a hand through his hair, then let it fall limply against his jean-clad knee. 

“I don’t know,” he said.

Just then, Taylor’s phone buzzed, and I watched him warily extract it from his pocket before glancing down at the screen to read the text.

“That was Dana, thanking us both for coming with her on the trip,” he explained.

An amused smirk on his lips hinted that there might have been more to the message than he’d chosen to reveal, but I didn’t pry. After setting his phone on the coffee table, he snaked his arms around my waist and kissed a tender pathway from my neck up to my mouth. 

“It was such a fun week, wasn’t it?” he asked. 

I smiled against his lips and relaxed into the warmth of his embrace, feeling all of my earlier worries melt away. 

“It was the best,” I replied.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

Mornings were not my favorite. 

On a typical day, it wasn’t uncommon for me to shower, brush my teeth, and throw my clothes on in a daze, all the while battling the urge to crawl back into bed and bury myself beneath the covers. But on that particular morning, I woke up and watched the sun’s bright rays sift through the blinds with a smile. Not only was Thursday my usual day off, but Taylor was only scheduled to work for a few hours at some catered business function downtown, which meant that we had the entire evening to ourselves.

The week so far had proven to be a flurry of nonstop motion, and while Taylor and I fell asleep curled around each other every night, it had been almost impossible to spend any real time together. We had thus declared Thursday ‘date night,’ and rather than go out, I offered to make dinner to give him a break from cooking. When asked if he was in the mood for anything in particular, his answer had been spaghetti and meatballs—a dish that’s all but impossible to screw up, even at the hands of someone lacking the most basic culinary skills.

There was a noticeable lift in my step as I wandered the aisles of Reasor’s to gather all of the necessary ingredients. My coworkers—who were all too familiar with my bad moods and didn’t quite believe in my good ones—had picked up on the change in me as well. 

“I love seeing you so happy,” Andie had commented in the break room the previous day. She had then studied my face much more intently than usual, her eyes narrowing as though she’d reached some sort of groundbreaking revelation. “Wait a minute… Zac Hanson, are you _in love_?” she exclaimed.

I had merely grinned in response, confirming her (and everyone else’s) belief that I had ‘met someone.’ Little did they know, that someone was my own _brother_ and I hadn’t just met him; I had known him practically since the day I was born.

Just after I had plucked a bottle of red wine from the display and dropped it into my basket, I felt an enthusiastic slap across my lower back.

“Well hello there, lover boy,” a female voice chirped from behind me. I spun around to find Dana smirking at me from behind her glasses. “Long time no see.”

“I was kind of hoping to keep it that way,” I muttered.

“You’re a funny guy,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

“So I’m told.”

“No, but really, I’m glad I ran into you,” she said, her tone suddenly serious as her eyes latched onto mine. “I’ve been dying to know how things have been going with…”

“With…?” I tilted my head in a questioning fashion.

“With your foxy older brother, of course!”

Now it was my turn to smack her, although I slapped her arm, not her ass, and I was careful not to use any real force.

“Why don’t you say it a little louder?” I asked. “I’m not sure if the entire store heard you the first time.”

“Whatever,” she brushed off, rolling her eyes again. “You know you want to tell me all the juicy details.”

 _How does she know me so well?_ I wondered as my cheeks burned. 

While a part of me sought to keep my relationship with Taylor under lock and key, there was another part that desired to share it with someone. Given its unconventional nature, I knew that our bond wasn’t something that we could openly brag about or shout from the rooftops. In fact, if most people in our lives were to discover that we loved each other like we did, I had no doubt that they would disown us. 

Dana was far from my best friend in the world, but at least she didn’t judge us, I decided as I watched her survey the contents of my shopping basket with a grin. 

“If we must discuss the details of my sex life, can we at least do it in a place that’s a little more… private?” I lowered my voice, my eyebrows raised in the direction of the woman and herd of young children who had just wandered into the aisle.

“How about you come hang out at my place when you’re finished shopping? I make a mean peppermint hot chocolate—extra marshmallows if you’re extra cute,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“I guess I can stop by for a little while…”

“Fantastic. See you soon!”

Then she teased my hair, spanked the seat of my jeans once more, and disappeared from view. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

Dana was right. 

Her homemade peppermint cocoa was to die for, and there was no shortage of marshmallows in the mug she had prepared for me. Facing each other on opposite sides of her bed, we chatted while we sipped our hot drinks. 

I’d never been in her bedroom before, but I wasn’t surprised to find that it was just as bold and unpredictable as she was. The walls were painted in alternating blocks of coral and sea-foam green, the bright colors offset by the thick blackout curtains that hung from the windows, effectively keeping out the light. The only thing that shocked me about her bedroom was how void of personal effects it was. But the abundance of photos strewn across nearly every surface of the room made up for its relative lack of decoration.

I was especially drawn to the large collage of pictures on the wall behind me. 

Amy was in one of them, smiling almost shyly at the camera from a reclined position on a beach chair. Dana’s ex-boyfriend Jeremy was in another, showing off his drug-induced stupidity by pretending to light his own hair on fire. But the photo that caught my eye the most was the one of her and Taylor. If my memory served me correctly, the snapshot had been taken at Taylor’s most recent birthday party, and judging from the drinks they were holding, their arms slung around each other’s waists in a sloppy yet endearing fashion, they’d both been a little buzzed. Still, Taylor’s beauty radiated from the surface of the glossy canvas like it was a tangible presence in the room. As I stared at his crooked grin, I couldn’t help cracking a smile of my own. 

Was it possible to love someone so much that even just a silly _depiction_ of him worked its way into your heart and made you weak in the knees?

“Boy, you’ve really got it bad.” Dana shook her head, seeming to have read my thoughts.

I blushed and redirected my gaze to the foamy layer of marshmallows that had started to dissolve. 

“Can I ask you something?” she spoke up after a moment’s pause, her voice stripped of its usual teasing quality.

“That depends on what you’re asking.”

“Why Taylor?” She ignored my sarcastic remark, her dark eyes boring into mine. “I mean, I get that he’s insanely gorgeous and kind and talented and _perfect_ , but doesn’t the fact that he’s also your sibling make it a little strange when y’all are… you know…”

She trailed off then, her brow furrowed in contemplation.

“It’s not like I _chose_ to fall for him. It kind of just happened,” I said. “I mean, I figured something was ‘wrong’ with me pretty early on. Most guys would love nothing more than to have hundreds of girls fawning over them all the time, but I couldn’t have cared less. I was always happiest when I was around Taylor. Our lives were pretty crazy back then, and… I don’t know. You hear stories about people who reached a certain height of fame when they were really young, only to grow up and go off the deep end, but Taylor was always there to make sure that didn’t happen. He just makes my life make sense in a way I can’t even explain.”

“But you guys never…”

“No!” I was quick to reply. “God, no. I didn’t even realize I loved him like _that_ until recently, and even now, we’re still easing into it. Not so much in the physical sense–” I amended, smiling to myself at the thought of just how quickly and naturally that area of our relationship had progressed. “–but in the sense that there’s no real pressure to make decisions about the future or where things are going. We’re just taking each new day as it comes.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re absolutely perfect for each other,” she assured me, nearly sputtering through a heaping mouthful of hot chocolate. “But lately, I’ve been wondering about how I’d feel if I were in your shoes. It’s kind of like leading a double life, isn’t it? You’re free to be who you really are behind closed doors, but you have to act another way around pretty much everybody else?”

My lips curved into a frown as a long silence lapsed between us, her questions echoing a very real fear that I was struggling with. After so many years of being in the spotlight, I was fairly used to acting, to doing things I didn’t want to do in order to make other people happy—I was even willing to accept our fate of confining our more intimate displays of affection to the privacy of our home. 

But could I ever pretend not to love him?

“Anyway,” she continued on, failing to pick up on the emotional chords her words had struck. “I’m relieved to finally know which way your brother swings. I really wasn’t sure for awhile there. He’s very flirty, you know, especially when he’s drinking…”

“So I’ve heard,” I muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

I sighed and rested my half-empty mug by the bedside before leaning back against her pillows. 

I truly hadn’t meant to open up that can of worms, but once the lid was cracked, it was impossible to stop the truth from pouring out. I kept telling myself that Taylor’s fling with Tristan was a thing of the past—that it didn’t matter anymore—but no amount of silent pep talks could prevent me from imagining them together. And before I knew it, I had relayed the entire story of Tristan’s recent struggles.

“Well…” Dana looked strangely thoughtful once I reached the end of my rather bitter outburst. “Maybe I can help.”

“How?”

“You do realize that there’s a spare bedroom here, right?”

“You're not suggesting… oh, you are. Wow.” My eyes widened when she nodded; I was hardly able to believe what she was implying. “Dana, are you sure? I mean, you don’t even know the guy.”

Hell, _I_ barely even knew the guy!

“Hey, any friend of Taylor’s is a friend of mine. And I can’t speak for my mom, but I wouldn’t mind having a good-looking man around the house,” she said. “Plus, if he causes any trouble, I’ll just kick his ass back out on the street. Easy as pie.”

I shrugged, although I was still taken aback by her eagerness to let a total stranger into her home—especially someone like Tristan, who seemed unstable, unreliable, and way more trouble than he was worth. 

_Then again, Dana's always had a thing for bad boys,_ I reminded myself, my thoughts drifting back to those photos on the wall.

“Okay, then,” I eventually replied. “I’ll run it by Tay and have him pass the word along. Speaking of pie, I should probably get going. I have a meal to cook and a house to try not to burn down.”

She chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks.”

I drained the rest of my drink (which was still delicious, even though it was no longer piping hot), slipped my shoes back on, and gave Dana a one-armed hug before letting myself out the front door. The cold November wind whipped through my hair as I made the short trek home, bringing an unwanted chill to my heart as well. 

Although Taylor and I had been enjoying the excitement and unparalleled bliss of our brand-new relationship, I knew that we couldn’t stay in our little bubble forever. It was only a matter of time before it popped, and I dreaded the inevitable consequences.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

I swilled the wine around the bottom of the glass and checked my cell phone for the time. 

_Taylor should be home any minute now_ , I thought to myself before tipping the last few scarlet-tinted drops into my mouth.

I wasn’t one to drink my worries away, but the pasta sauce called for a few splashes of red wine, and once the bottle was open, I’d decided to pour myself a modest glass. While the alcohol certainly didn’t resolve any of the issues tumbling through my mind, it at least quieted them for a little while, allowing me to focus on the tasks at hand. As I moved through the kitchen, my favorite Poco album playing softly in the background, I felt a mellow sense of calm replace the anxiety that had followed me on the walk back from Dana’s house. 

“Something smells amazing,” Taylor practically groaned from the doorway, shrugging off his coat and unwinding his scarf from around his slender neck before draping them both across the back of a kitchen chair. 

I was rendered speechless for a moment, unable to tear my eyes from the glorious sight before me. He wore a pair of tight black pants and the first several buttons of his dress shirt were undone, revealing a patch of skin that I knew was just as soft as it looked.

“How was work?” I forced my attention back to the stove, where the meatballs were slowly simmering.

“Oh, it was fine,” he brushed off quickly ( _almost too quickly_ , I couldn’t help noticing). “What about you? How was your day?”

“It just got infinitely better, now that you’re here.” I pivoted on my heel to face him again, blowing a pesky strand of hair away from my forehead. “But my day was fine, too, I guess. I ran into Dana at the grocery store and she invited me over, so we hung out for a bit.”

“Is that so?” He chuckled, a note of surprise in his tone. “She didn’t try to make a move on you, did she?” 

“Well, there may have been some ass-grabbing…” I trailed off, laughing. “But other than that, things were pretty PG.”

Before I knew it, his hands were on my waist, his nose buried in my hair. I shivered as his still-cold fingers crept beneath the hem of my shirt and grazed across my bare skin.

“I can’t blame her at all for wanting you,” he said, closing the space between us so that his front was pressed against my back. “You do have a very nice ass.”

When his lips collided with the side of my neck, I nearly dropped the spoon I was holding. Sensing this, Taylor took it from my shaky grasp and set it on the counter before spinning me around and kissing me deeply on the mouth.

“You know, I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” he said, his fingertips inching up my sides.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His blue eyes all but burned into me. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“What kind of things have you been thinking about?” 

I played along, hooking my thumbs through the belt loops of his pants and pulling him in even closer. I could already feel how turned-on he was through the dark denim fabric and was growing increasingly dizzy as a result.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He flashed me a grin before leaning in and finding my lips once more. “Mm, you taste like wine.”

He then drew an unwavering line of kisses from my jaw to the hollow of my throat, all the while fighting to take off my shirt. Once he’d removed the garment and tossed it somewhere behind him, he dipped his head even lower and captured one of my nipples between his teeth. Although he bit down gently, careful not to trigger any real pain, I cried out at the electrifying sensation. This was a rougher side of Taylor, a side that I had never seen quite so intimately before, but I liked it. 

I liked it a _lot_.

Then again, I always enjoyed watching my brother take charge. Taylor had been our band’s unspoken leader, and it gave me an undeniable thrill to hear him adopt a tone of firm authority when he was normally so relaxed and soft-spoken. I also loved his ability to shock the hell out of people. Managers, coworkers, fans, and friends alike were often surprised by his natural ability to command the attention of others. He was more than just a shy guy with a pretty face, but it seemed that most people were reluctant to believe that until he proved it to them.

My wandering train of thought switched gears abruptly when I felt him touch my lower stomach. He deftly unbuttoned my jeans and slid them down my legs, smiling at my lack of underwear (a decision that had been based more on sheer carelessness than anything else but seemed to please him greatly nonetheless).

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, sinking down until his knees connected with the floor.

I braced myself against the counter and watched him pull me into his mouth. _He_ was the beautiful one. He was nothing short of breathtaking, his blonde hair tousled from the wind outside, his lips already slightly swollen. Each new stroke of his tongue brought me nearer to the edge that I always felt much too close to in his presence, and eventually I forced out something that vaguely resembled a warning. I didn’t _want_ him to stop, but I knew that if he didn’t, I’d be completely spent before our ‘date’ had even properly begun.

He paused, his palms resting on his own thighs as he gazed up at me through a soft curve of eyelashes. 

“Do you want me?”

Yes, he definitely had that innocently devious act down to a science. Was the sky blue? Was my name Zac Hanson? Was I as hard as steel? Of course I wanted him! In fact, I was having difficulty remembering a time when I _didn’t_.

“So badly,” I mumbled.

At my admission, he rose to his feet and shed his clothes before I could even catch my breath. That was another thing about Taylor: he was lightning-fast when he wanted to be. Sometimes, in the midst of a particularly energized show, he would throw his head back and kick up the tempo of whatever song we were playing. And although he was behind his piano and not my drum kit, it was clear that he was controlling not only the beat, but Isaac and me, along with everyone else in the room.

“Then take me.”

The words pulsed against my collarbone, reminding me of those exhilarating nights onstage when we performed in front of thousands of screaming fans, when my heart threatened to explode from a barely containable mixture of joy and disbelief. I was so happy to be there, to be a part of something so special that touched other people just as much as it touched me, but at the same time, I was constantly struck with the urge to pinch myself. 

_Is this actually happening?_ I asked myself over and over.

Sometimes I lay awake and wondered if I could ever rid myself of my doubt long enough to learn how to accept the blessings that came my way. “Good things happen to good people,” our mother used to say. But if that was true, then why had she been made to suffer a horrible illness that ended her life far too soon? The unfairness of what had happened to her made me question everything. 

Refusing to let my insecurities get the best of me this time, I reached for Taylor’s hand and knotted my fingers through his. But when I started tugging him in the direction of the bedroom, he stopped me.

“Let’s stay here,” he suggested, his eyes misty with need.

“Here… as in, right here?”

He nodded, steering us away from the stove and toward a stretch of empty space between the cupboards. He backed himself up against the wall and beckoned me closer. After leaving me breathless with a series of long open-mouthed kisses, he pulled away and stared at me imploringly. 

It was almost as if he was offering up the position of power—something that I was admittedly hesitant to seize. On one hand, I wanted to bring one of my dirtier fantasies to life by taking him against the wall, but on the other hand, I wasn’t sure that I could successfully assume a dominant role. Not with Taylor, anyway. 

But was there really any harm in trying? Even back when we were children, Taylor had insisted on quietly drawing me out of my various comfort zones. I was the type of kid who stuck to chicken fingers and hamburgers well into my teenage years, simply because I knew I liked them and was wary of branching out and giving anything else a chance. Thanks to Taylor, who always let me sample the unusual dishes he ordered at restaurants, I was exposed to not only a world outside of McDonald’s and Pizza Hut, but to an entirely different outlook on life in general. He encouraged me to take risks, to see not only what was there, but what _could be_.

Plus, I couldn’t deny that he seemed excited by the thought of me being in control—an idea that, in turn, excited _me_. So I returned his burning gaze and gingerly angled his body toward the wall.

“Do you want it like this?” I whispered in his ear, placing one hand on the wall by his head and wrapping the other one around his erection.

His loud groan of pleasure was answer enough, causing me to lean in closer, my own arousal evident as it pressed into the backs of his thighs.

“We don’t–,” I suddenly realized, my voice breaking along with my impulsive burst of confidence. “We don’t have any…”

“I know.”

“But won’t it hurt?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured me. “Just use your fingers first.”

Although no one—not even Taylor—was watching me in the moments that followed, I still felt self-conscious as I dragged my tongue across my fingers, making them as slick as I could. But every last shred of awkward embarrassment melted away the second I entered him. 

His moans blended in with the music drifting from the living room, creating a seamless mixture of sound that was all too easy to get lost in. Like riding the waves on a summer day, I was floating swiftly away from shore without a life raft, but drowning wasn’t even an option. Taylor would always be there to save me.

“God, Zac, I want to feel you. Please,” he pleaded, his back arching in an almost desperate attempt to take in even more of my fingers.

Didn’t he realize that he didn’t have to beg? That I’d always give him whatever he wanted? I pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck and slid into him slowly. At least, I tried to go slowly at first.It was impossible to hold on to my composure when Taylor pushed his hips against me, coaxing me deeper than I’d ever been before. 

“Are you sure I’m not hurting you?” I gasped, tightening my grip on his waist.

“Positive,” he replied huskily. “Keep going.”

And so I did. 

As our desire mounted, so did our rhythm, and soon we were rocking together so forcefully that the dishes in the surrounding cabinets clanged against each other in tandem with our thrusts.

When it was over, when we’d both come down from that astounding height of passion, we collapsed onto the kitchen floor in a sweaty tangle. Resting my head on his thigh, I let my eyes fall closed as he combed his fingers lazily through my hair. The timer by the stove went off a few minutes later, rattling me from my drowsy haze.

“The meatballs must be ready,” I announced sleepily, too blissfully content to move.

“Good.” There was a satisfied smile in his voice. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” 

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

I nestled into the soft sheets of my brother’s bed with a contented sigh. The rest of our ‘date’ had unfolded like a dream, leaving me exhausted in the best possible way. 

After sharing the meal I’d prepared—which, by the way, I still couldn’t believe I’d managed not to botch up—we decided to polish off the bottle of Pinot noir in the living room. Drinking when I had to be at work early the following morning certainly wasn’t the smartest decision I had ever made, but being around Taylor always made it difficult for me to think properly. It wasn’t long before our wine-stained lips were fused together in a prelude to the thrilling wave of lust that soon washed over us. 

It appeared that Dana was right—alcohol really did make Taylor even more affectionate than usual. He was almost like a man possessed as he crawled on top of me, his hands and mouth claiming every single part of my body with tender intensity. When I entered him for the second time that day, he held nothing back, his moans refreshingly loud and unbridled as his hips rocked freely against mine. 

God, I couldn’t get enough of him. 

The way he looked and felt and _made me feel_ was so much better than anything I had ever imagined. My desire for him was rendered even greater when I gazed into his eyes and saw a very pure, very real love shining back at me. Once we had both reached the quivering crest of release, he pressed his forehead against mine and whispered my name over and over in that husky, musical tone that never failed to undo me. It was but a simple, monosyllabic chant and yet it was easily one of the sweetest things I’d ever had the pleasure of hearing.

Afterward, we took our time in the shower, running soapy hands along each other’s bodies with passionate yet gentle precision, like we were touching for the very first time. We then retreated to Taylor’s bedroom, where I slipped into a broken-in pair of my brother’s boxers and watched him pull on his favorite drawstring pants. 

I had drawers full of (mostly) clean clothes in my own room, but everything that belonged to Taylor seemed leagues more comfortable than anything I owned. As a kid, I remember stealing cookies and handfuls of potato chips off of Taylor’s plate when we were at the kitchen table, eating lunch. It didn’t matter that I had the same exact snacks in front of me—his always tasted better.

I rolled onto my side on the bed to face him and noticed that a piece of still-damp hair was sticking straight up from the top of his head like an antenna. 

_Even his imperfections are perfect_ , I thought with a smile, tucking the wayward strand back into place.

He returned the grin and took my hand in his before lifting it to his lips and kissing his way across my palm. I shivered despite the heat of his touch, delight trickling down my spine at the sensual ministrations. 

“What time do you have to be up tomorrow?” he asked.

“Seven-thirty,” I answered with a slight frown.

“In that case, I should probably let you get some sleep. Thanks again for the mind-blowing… _dinner_ ,” he finished with a sexy little grin. “I had so much fun with you tonight.”

I knew that what I’d cooked was nothing compared to the gourmet dishes he was capable of whipping up, but his playful words pleased me all the same. We hadn’t even left the house, but it was by far the best date I had ever been on.

“Goodnight, Zac. I love you.” He gave me one last kiss, leaving behind the faintest trace of peppermint when he pulled away.

“Love you, too,” I murmured happily.

Then he drew the covers around us both and switched off the lamp by his bedside. I drifted off in a matter of minutes, warm and safe in the cocoon we had created.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

We’d taken to sharing a bed ever since our return from Orlando. 

It wasn’t a spoken decision, but rather a habit that we had fallen into naturally. I figured that it was only fair to trade off whose room we slept in, but so far, we’d spent the bulk of our nights in Taylor’s bed. 

I had no real complaints about that, though. My room resembled what I imagined a college dorm to look like, my belongings strewn carelessly across the floor, my bed perpetually unmade. Taylor’s bedroom, on the other hand, was not only a hell of a lot cleaner and more organized than mine was; it was larger, too. Yet despite the extra space that it offered, his room somehow seemed even cozier than my own.

Thanks to our newfound sleeping arrangement, I grew to learn that Taylor was still somewhat of an insomniac. Neither of us had been very good at sleeping after our mom passed away, but as the months progressed, things gradually became easier for me. I knew that I’d never be able to make it through an entire day without missing her, without feeling that forlorn, unforgiving ache deep within my gut, but at least I’d healed enough to allow myself a few hours of peaceful rest when my head hit the pillow. And with Taylor now beside me, I slept more soundly than I ever had before. 

But Taylor clearly wasn’t experiencing those same soporific side effects. In fact, somewhere in the middle of the night, I felt him tossing and turning beside me, his soft sighs rippling through the otherwise silent air like wind on calm water. When I noticed him shifting his weight on the mattress, I cracked my eyelids open to find his own eyes locked on the ceiling. 

“Tay?”

My voice was but a sleep-soaked whisper that carried through the darkness, but he heard me. I knew this because his whole body tensed up immediately. Maybe the change would have been overlooked by someone else—someone who wasn’t his brother, who didn’t know him inside and out. But I was hyper aware of his every motion, even those I couldn’t see, like the shuddering rhythm of his heart.

He didn’t respond, and I must have fallen back into the heavy arms of wine-induced slumber, because the next time I awoke, he was gone.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

Panicked footsteps ushered me out of the room just past 6 AM. 

Taylor’s side of the bed was cold and empty, leaving me with a sick feeling of dread that followed me through the dimly lit halls. There may have been a hint of a hangover thrown in there as well, I realized once I ran my tongue across my disgustingly dry lips, but I knew that most of my distress stemmed from Taylor’s absence. 

When I stepped into the kitchen and found him sitting at the table, his hands wrapped around a large mug of coffee, I was overcome with relief. Embarrassment was quick to accompany it, though, for my frazzled expression was all but a dead giveaway of the ridiculous conclusions I’d jumped to so hastily.

_Just because he left the bed doesn’t mean he left **you**_ , I chided myself. 

Of course, the rational part of my brain was well aware of this, but as I said before, I tended to lose sight of level-headed logic when it came to my brother. He studied me as I padded across the floor and dropped into the chair beside him, his blue eyes flashing up at me intently.

“What are you doing up so early?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied before taking another sip of coffee.

I smiled inwardly as I watched him. Taylor was the only person I knew who could drink coffee around the clock and not be affected by it. Too much caffeine made me high-strung and jittery, but no matter how many cups he drank each day, he usually managed to maintain a serene disposition. But I couldn’t deny that he looked on edge in that moment, a deeply troubled look etched into his eyes.

“Got something on your mind?” I eventually dared to pry.

He exhaled, uncurling his hand from around the coffee mug and reaching across the table for mine. I wasn’t sure why he had made that sudden gesture, but nevertheless I grabbed his wrist and held on tightly. I’d use just about any excuse to get even closer to him.

“I saw Tristan yesterday.”

I sucked in a wordless breath, as though I sought to capture the one he’d just let out. 

“After the event downtown, I drove back to Fleming’s to help Lorie take care of a few things. And Tristan was waiting by the entrance to pick up his last paycheck,” he explained. “For what it’s worth, he seemed totally shocked to see me, so it was clear he hadn’t planned on the encounter, but yeah… it was awkward.”

“Did you talk to him?”

Taylor nodded.

“He apologized, and I forgave him.” He chuckled softly—almost sheepishly—at the look of disbelief that crossed my face. “That sounds so simple, doesn’t it? He’s going through a lot right now, though; there’s just no point in holding onto those harsh things he said to me.”

“But the guy basically blamed you for ruining his life! He had no right to treat you like that. He _hurt_ you, Taylor,” I snapped, the sharp venom in my voice taking us both by surprise. 

“You’re right—he did hurt me. But I honestly don’t think that he meant to.”

He then flipped our hands over so that mine covered his. Our palms fit together seamlessly, just another physical reminder of the fact that he completed me.

“We’re both so lucky, you know? First of all, we have each other, and thanks to growing up with parents who actually gave a damn about us, we know what it’s like to love without condition. But Tristan doesn’t have that—he doesn’t really have anyone. He never knew his dad, and his mom is some highbrow intellectual who ran off to Europe years ago to chase her own dreams and broke off all contact with him. Then he met Blair, and just when he thought he’d found some semblance of normalcy, he discovered that he’s actually gay…”

Taylor shook his head, layered locks of hair spilling into his eyes in the process. The fingers of his free hand were busy tapping out an erratic beat against the tabletop.

“I feel so badly for him, Zac. I know I’m not responsible for fixing the mess he’s made of his life, but I wish there was _something_ I could do to help.”

“Well…” I began uncertainly. “This is probably going to sound crazy, but I think I might have found a place for him to stay for awhile.”

“What?”

It was my turn to look sheepish as I relayed the conversation I’d had with Dana the day before.

“Wow, that’s a generous offer. I can’t say I’m not surprised, but maybe I shouldn’t be—Dana has always had a good heart. Maybe this will be good for both of them.” He paused his pensive commentary just long enough to trap me in a curious stare. “It’s just… it seems like you’ve been sitting on this for awhile. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“The same reason you didn’t let me know about your run-in with Tristan, I guess,” I replied quietly. “I didn’t want anything to stand in the way of our evening… in the way of us being together.”

His features softened at my confession and he scooted in toward me, securing a strong arm around my waist. I could taste his lips before they even had a chance to meet my own, my body tingling in delicious anticipation of his kisses.

“Let’s make a pact,” he said, trailing his thumb across my jaw. “No more secrets from this point forward, okay?”

“No more secrets,” I repeated without faltering.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

“How’s the new living situation working out?” I poured two fresh cups of coffee and handed one to Dana before sliding back into my seat at the kitchen table. 

“So far, so good,” she replied.

I shot her a skeptical look.

“What do you want me to say?” She set down the mug and shrugged helplessly. “I know you’re not his biggest fan right now, but Tristan’s actually a total sweetheart. He’s nice, he’s funny, he helps out around the house—oh, and let’s not forget how amazing he looks in his underwear. I have no complaints.”

I rolled my eyes and took a long swig of coffee to burn away the sarcastic remarks preparing for flight on the tip of my tongue. Then I tugged a few fingers through my messy hair while I waited for her to continue (something that she was bound to do, even though I _really_ didn’t want to think about Tristan in his tighty whities).

“Seriously, though, things are working out fine. And would it kill you to give the guy a chance? For what it’s worth, he still feels really shitty about the way he treated Tay.”

“Yeah, well, he _should_ ,” I grumbled.

Between my hectic work schedule and spending time with Taylor, I’d barely had a spare moment to breathe, let alone dwell on all that had happened between Tristan and my brother. But once Dana brought it up, the mixture of resentment and jealousy rose back to the surface again with unexpected force. 

I snatched a cookie off of the plate in the center of the table and tore into it angrily, causing crumbs to spray in every possible direction. Dana merely shook her head and laughed, all the while trying to avoid getting pelted by any airborne bits.

Yet despite her talent for getting under my skin, I’d grown to look forward to our semi-regular coffee ‘dates.’ I’d never had many close friends outside of my family or the band. And the precious few I had made drifted away as the years passed by, their exits gradual and clean, like sand draining slowly from an hourglass. 

To most people, I was damaged goods—not only because my family was broken, but because I was suddenly without the one thing that they had come to associate me with. The only thing that I was truly good at: 

Music. 

Since Dana and I both happened to have the same day off of work that week, we’d decided to meet up at my house in the afternoon (a decision based largely on the fact that Taylor had gone on an ambitious baking spree the night before, leaving me with an abundance of treats that I didn’t trust myself alone with). In addition to a delicious batch of cherry chocolate-chip cookies, he’d also made a loaf of pumpkin bread with cream cheese filling that I’d been picking at all morning. 

If Taylor kept it up, I’d never lose the extra weight I’d put on after our band stopped performing. 

Of course, like most things in life, I hadn’t fully appreciated the demands of our former career at the time. During those particularly hectic years when it seemed like we never stopped moving, I remember lifting my tired eyes to the ceiling and cursing whoever was up there for pulling me away from the comfort of my bed when all I wanted to do was sleep.

My job at Starship Records kept me busy enough—I was on my feet and forced to interact with people for most of the day—but it didn’t compare to being in a band with my brothers. Then again, nothing did. 

I took another measured sip of coffee, this time in an attempt to dodge the wave of bittersweet memories that loomed overhead. Sometimes, that significant piece of my past felt like nothing but a distant dream, like it had been lived by someone else and I was viewing it all through a secondhand lens; but then there were times when it seemed much too close for comfort. My free hand finding the ring around my neck, I rubbed a mindless pattern along its smooth surface as I wondered if the best parts of my life had already happened.

“So.” I sucked in a loud breath and swallowed, desperately wracking my brain for a marginally graceful way to change the subject. “How’s Amy?”

“She’s… okay,” Dana responded slowly. 

When her eyes met mine, it was clear that she had more to say, but before she could elaborate, the front door swung open and in walked Taylor. 

We were both temporarily stunned by his presence, and the silence that claimed the room was so sudden and amplified that I could actually hear the floorboards creak in mild protest as he approached. He looked amazing, as always, his wind-tossed hair and rosy cheeks only adding to his beauty—but I immediately knew that something was wrong. He tried to mask it with a smile, but I caught the look of discomfort that crossed his face when he unzipped his leather jacket and placed it on the coat rack.

“You’re home early!” Dana pointed out, oblivious to the distress I had picked up on. “Aren’t you supposed to be closing tonight?”

“That was the plan,” he said with a small nod. “But then this happened, and they sent me home.”

As he spoke, he carefully rolled up the sleeve of his black dress shirt to reveal a thick strip of gauze wrapped clumsily around his left arm, stretching from his palm to just below his elbow. Moon-white patches of skin were visible between the gaps of the bandage, and I noticed that the exposed area around his wrist looked especially pale and almost bluish in the dim light of the room.

“Holy shit!” Dana exclaimed. 

Meanwhile, I could do nothing but battle with a series of labored breaths. We all had our clumsy moments growing up, but now _I_ held the title of the most accident-prone member of the family. Taylor hardly ever got hurt anymore. These days, I honestly believed that he was so busy looking out for everyone else that he didn’t have time for mishaps of his own.

“What happened?” 

When I found my voice, it came out just a notch above a whisper. The question was so quiet that I wasn’t sure I’d even asked it until Taylor finally answered.

“One of the busboys turned a corner too quickly and slammed right into me, and my arm got wedged between the wall and the tray of drinks I was carrying. And, well, let’s just say there was a lot of broken glass and blood involved,” he finished with a soft sigh, sinking down into an empty chair.

“My God. Did someone drive you to the hospital?”

“Does this look like the work of a professional?” He laughed, holding up his poorly bandaged hand for emphasis.

“Well, how deep is the cut? Do you need to get it looked at? What if it gets infect-,”

“Zac, relax. I’m fine.” Taylor rested his good hand on mine to calm me, his nurturing instinct so effortless and strong that I momentarily forgot which one of us was injured. “At least, I _will_ be fine once I get a taste of that delicious coffee I’m smelling.”

A beam of affection broke through my cloud of worry like a fighting ray of sun, painting my lips with a smile. As far as Taylor was concerned, there were very few things that coffee couldn’t cure. 

Eager to help in any way that I could, I scrambled to my feet and filled his favorite mug with a heaping serving from the pot I’d just brewed, stirring in a splash of milk and sugar. He smiled up at me gratefully as I placed the cup in his outstretched hand, and I tried to ignore the way he winced every time he made even the slightest motion.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, eying him carefully.

“In case you’ve forgotten, my mom happens to be a registered nurse,” Dana chimed in. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to take a look once she gets home.”

“I appreciate the offer, but it’s really not a big deal,” he brushed off. “My hand will heal in no time—I’m sure of it. And Lorie told me to take the rest of the week off, so it’s not like I’ll be straining it or anything.”

Taylor’s words were meant to put me at ease, but instead they resurrected the very real possibility that he was much better at hiding things than I’d originally thought. As I pushed my coffee cup around in shallow half-circles, I was reminded of one of the only times he’d ever gotten sick. He’d had flu-like symptoms for weeks but refused to see a doctor until the morning our father found him in the bathroom, coughing up mouthfuls of blood. Our family was taken completely by surprise, none of us believing that he had anything more than just a common cold or virus. Apparently, he preferred to endure the worst of his raging illness in privacy. It was a stubborn sense of strength that he’d inherited from our mother. 

He had to be all but dragged into the pediatrician’s office that day—where he was diagnosed with pneumonia and sent to the emergency room soon after—but despite the fact that he was clearly suffering, he didn’t utter a single complaint during the two weeks he spent in the hospital. 

In fact, it was possible that I was more affected by his condition than he was.

Only nine years old at the time, I vividly recall burying my tear-stained face in my hands to avoid staring at all of the scary machines hooked up to Taylor’s bony frame. Those devices seemed capable of sucking the life _out_ of him instead of helping him recover. But every time he saw me—including the rare and alarming moments when he wasn’t able to speak, whether due to a lack of strength or a tube being shoved down his throat—he smiled, his blue eyes radiating a level of wisdom that didn’t seem possible to attain at such a young age.

I was pulled out of the memory by those same blue eyes washing over me, a hint of amusement twinkling in their depths. Dana was nowhere to be seen, but her coat and purse still remained on the chair beside her, so she couldn’t have gone far.

“Welcome back,” Taylor said.

“Sorry.” I shook my head and gave him a sheepish grin. “What did I miss?”

“I just asked if you talked to Dad today.”

I shook my head again. Truth be told, I couldn’t pinpoint the last time we’d spoken, although I knew that it was sometime before our trip to Orlando. 

“Why? Did you?”

He nodded. 

“He called just as I was leaving for work. I didn’t have long to talk, but he told me that he wants to stay in Arizona for Thanksgiving. He said that he just isn’t ready to come back here and face everything. And Ike’s planning on going to the Hamptons with his soon-to-be in-laws, so I guess it’s just you and me this year.”

“Oh.”

I fought to keep the wounded disappointment out of my tone, but I must not have been able to hide it very well because Taylor was quick to grab my hand and hold on tightly, thumbing a soothing pattern across my knuckles. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t like the idea of spending a holiday alone with Taylor. It was that I’d foolishly let myself believe that we could all come together and act like a real family again, if only for one day. But I should have known that it wasn’t likely to recreate such a picture-perfect scene. Not now, and maybe not ever.

“Well, maybe we’ll have better luck on Christmas,” I eventually replied, pushing the sadness away and focusing on the warmth of Taylor’s skin against my own.

 _If nothing else, at least we have each other_ , I thought, gazing deeply into his eyes.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

“I have an idea.” Dana’s voice came from the doorway, pulling me out of my Taylor-induced trance. 

It really was amazing how the rest of the world fell away whenever he was around. In fact, I would have forgotten that she was still in our house had she not spoken up like that.

Despite the fact that we hadn’t yet asked what her idea was, she carried on without missing a beat as she crossed the room to reclaim her seat at the kitchen table.

“We should all have Thanksgiving together!” she exclaimed. 

I bit my lip and set down the cookie that had previously been on its way to my mouth. Sensing my uncertainty, she pressed on.

“Seriously, let’s do it! My mom has to work a twelve-hour shift that day, so I was planning on inviting Amy over since her dad would rather hang himself than celebrate a holiday. We’d probably just wind up ordering Chinese food or some other form of take-out, but this will be so much better.” She turned to Taylor then, her eyes glinting with excitement. “You and Amy can cook, I can play bartender, and Zac can help out wherever he’s needed. It’ll be perfect!”

“I don’t know…” I cut in before she gained even more momentum. 

Still depressed about having been more or less abandoned by our family, I certainly wasn’t in the mood for a party, and I knew that feeling wasn’t likely to change by the time Thanksgiving rolled around. Plus, spending an entire day alone with Taylor trumped all other options; surely Dana understood that. But the drumming of my brother’s fingers against the tabletop let me know that unlike me, he was seriously considering her suggestion. Never one to be idle even while standing still, he was probably in the midst of outlining an elaborate menu in his head.

“What do you think, Tay?” she prompted.

“I think that sounds like fun,” he said, shifting his gaze back to me.

I recognized the look in his eyes immediately. 

It was the same look he used to give me when we were on tour and I was being crabby and difficult. In all honesty, I’d never purposefully _tried_ to be a pain in the ass while we were on the road, but it seemed to happen naturally, a result of our busy schedule that came with precious little downtime and a perpetual lack of sleep. 

Isaac wrote me off as being a nuisance—or, in his words, “a whiny baby”—and left Taylor to deal with my frequent outbursts. I can’t even imagine how annoying it must have been to put up with me back then, but Taylor handled it all with ease. He knew how to calm me down; how to make me see the silver lining to the proverbial cloud that always seemed to be looming over me. And he was practicing that very same tactic now, telling me without words that maybe, just maybe, Dana’s proposition wasn’t such a terrible one after all.

“Alright,” I eventually agreed, unable to resist the sparkling hint of hope in his eyes. 

“Excellent!” Dana slapped the edge of the table, shooting me a triumphant grin. “We’ll have to get together again soon and work out all the details. I’d better head home now, though. I promised Tristan that I’d go to the movies with him, and he hates it when I’m late…”

There must have been more to the conversation as Dana gathered up her things, but it was like the sound was sucked out, replaced by a feeling of total dread. 

_Tristan._

On the tip of my tongue sat something heavy and leadlike, a weight of questions that I was much too afraid to ask:

Would he be joining us for Thanksgiving? And if so, would I survive it?

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

“You really don’t have to do this,” Taylor said.

“I know, but I really want to,” I replied, letting soft strands of his hair slide through my fingers.

Not long after Dana left, I’d decided to give my worried mind a rest and run a hot bath for Taylor.

He hadn’t uttered a single complaint, but I could tell that he was in pain. Every time he moved, he winced, and the creases that fanned out around his eyes led me to believe that his accident with the busboy that afternoon at Fleming’s had really rattled him. 

I also had a feeling that the cuts on his hand were far worse than he’d initially let on. There had been no blood visible on the gauze when he first came home, but now, the area closest to his palm was a nauseating shade of ruby red. Just looking at the poorly-covered wounds made me feel light-headed, so I could only imagine what he was going through.

The nagging voice of my conscience told me that I should take him to the hospital, but I argued that Taylor was a grown man—I couldn’t very well force him to see a doctor when he kept insisting that he was “just fine.” So I figured that the only thing I _could_ do was help him get comfortable.

I worked the bar of soap into a generous lather before trailing my hands across the muscles in his back, smiling when an appreciative murmur floated from his lips. I paid particular attention to his shoulders—strong shoulders that he’d let me cry on more times than I could count—and as I rinsed the suds off, I held onto just a few and let them trickle off of my fingertips, losing myself in the sweet smells of lavender and love.

It wasn’t long before Taylor was almost fully reclined in the tub, his left arm propped up on the ledge to keep it dry, his eyes closed as I continued washing him. I worked my way down his chest and stomach, then his legs, noticing that he arched his hips toward me when I approached the spot between his thighs. My intention was to make him feel good, not tease the hell out of him, but I had to admit that it gave me a thrill to see what an obvious effect I had on him. 

“Zac…” he half-moaned, half-whispered.

My jeans grew tight, and I nearly climbed into the bathtub with all of my clothes on just to be closer to him. I’d never get tired of the way he said my name, especially when he was aroused. His hardness was evident now, bobbing just beneath the surface of the water, taunting me with every inch of its perfection. 

“Hey, Tay?” I curled my fingers around his length and began to gently stroke him. 

“Hmm?” he replied, his tone thick with lust.

“How does it feel when I’m inside you?”

“Like I’m whole again.”

The haze lifted from his voice and his eyes were clear and open, like a morning sky filled with promise. I sucked in a breath, feeling the tickle of tears against my eyelashes. How did he manage to be so beautiful? Even his words were perfect. I continued the rhythmic motions of my hand as he stared up at me, curious as to why I’d asked the question.

 _I want you to fuck me,_ I answered silently, holding his gaze. _I want to feel you in me. I want you to be the only one for me._

Why were the words so easy to think but so damn difficult to say? 

They pulsed against my ribcage, right beside my heart, but I didn’t know how to express them. And when Taylor’s right hand wrapped around my neck, pulling me down for a deep kiss, I forgot everything—Tristan, the alarming bloodstains, our scattered family, my own spooling insecurities—and toppled headfirst into the passion of the moment.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

I sighed happily and folded myself into the warmth of Taylor’s bed, drawing the recent memories around me along with the sheets. 

The soothing bath I’d meant to give Taylor had transformed into something else entirely, leaving both of us soaked and breathless in the tub of off-white porcelain. My earlier desire hadn’t faded—I was still dying to know what it was like to be filled by him—but I was unquestionably sated, replete with love for him even at the very edge of consciousness.

I reached my hand out drowsily, hoping to be rewarded with the softness of my brother’s skin, but instead was met with the cool absence of it. I sat up with a frown, blinking through the darkness until I could make out my surroundings. 

It was the middle of the night, and Taylor was nowhere to be seen. This was happening _too much_ lately. 

A sliver of light escaped from under the bathroom door, and I followed it quickly, knowing that it would lead me to him. I turned the doorknob, and groaned when it resisted. After twisting it again and again to no avail, I leaned against the door, battling with the urge to pound on it with my fists. 

I couldn’t remember the last time Taylor had locked me out of a room in our own house. We shared everything. But frustration morphed into concern when I heard the distinct sound of sobbing. The noise was so guttural, so absolutely sad that I was brought to tears myself.

_No. I need to be strong. He’s clearly going through something that he doesn’t want to talk about, and I have to respect that without falling apart. He’ll come to you when he’s ready…_

I swallowed hard and clung to the advice from my pep talk, hoping that it held some truth. 

Taylor’s sobs eventually tapered to silence, and I crawled back into bed before he came out to find me pressed against the door. I pulled the blankets up to my chin and shut my eyes, trying desperately to fill my mind with happy thoughts to lull me back to sleep. But the demons there were relentless, mocking my every attempt for peace.

_Now the light has gone away  
Savior, listen while I pray  
Asking thee to watch and keep  
And to send me quiet sleep…_

I lifted my eyes to the window and looked out into the inky November night, the verse to an old prayer stuck in my throat. I had grown up in a Christian family, but I didn’t know if I believed in God. I didn’t know if I believed in anything. 

One of the first books I ever read convinced me that I could reach up and touch the stars, so on a crisp fall evening right around my fifth birthday, I’d dragged Taylor into the backyard after bedtime and demanded that he show me how to do it.

_“You can’t touch the stars,” he answered matter-of-factly. Upon seeing my eyes crowd with tears, he pursed his lips and tapped his foot against the ground, signs that he was thinking. “But maybe we can try together. Wanna try?”_

_I nodded eagerly, and he crouched down and let me climb onto his shoulders. It was one of my favorite places to be; it made me feel like I was on top of the world._

_Our palms outstretched and open toward the sky, we stood out there for hours, etching our dreams into the dusky clouds that drifted overhead. By the time we crept back inside, I’d forgotten all about my quest to do the impossible. I was content just to be near Taylor, my older brother, the kindest, brightest, and strongest person I knew._

Sleep settled in on the fringes of the memory, our childhood figures retreating into shadows. 

When my eyes closed, I finally fell into a steady dream, one in which Taylor was holding me and refusing to let go. Pressing his nose into my hair, he whispered in my ear that everything would make sense eventually, and that tomorrow would be a better day.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

“Rise and shine,” Taylor sang softly, teasing his fingers through my hair.

When he leaned down to kiss me, I breathed in a heady mixture of powdered sugar, toothpaste and aftershave that let me know he was already up and ready to face the day. Why he felt the need to shave when he didn’t have to go to work was beyond me; but then again, Taylor preferred looking clean-cut to wearing sparse patches of stubble. 

Try as he might, he simply wasn’t able to grow a full beard or anything remotely close to it, and that was probably for the best. I was told that facial hair suited me well enough, but it didn’t exactly flatter my brother. Not that Taylor could ever do anything to make himself look _bad_ , but his beauty was better off uncovered. Unlike me, he didn’t need anything to mask his flaws or hide behind. 

My wandering thoughts were pulled back into focus as his eyes caught mine, sparkling with luminous rays of morning light. Although I wanted to, I didn’t mention what I’d heard through the closed door of the bathroom. There was no use in prompting him to discuss something he was clearly trying not to think about.

And in a way, I even understood. 

I myself had been a prisoner of darkness and depression. In fact, there were periods of time following our mother’s death when I was certain I would die alone. Who would ever want to love a washed-up drummer with no other real talents to speak of? I wasn’t stunningly attractive like Taylor or driven and focused like Isaac. I was lost and directionless, hesitant to venture down any one path out of fear that I’d wind up in the same sad place no matter which way I chose.

If not for Taylor, I might still be pondering my fate of eternal loneliness today. He had honestly saved me, his presence in my life a constant reminder that even after death, there was such a thing as resurrected joy. He showed me that I was allowed to smile and laugh and not feel guilty. He taught me that I could miss our mom without hating myself. 

I only wished that I could do the same for him.

“I really don’t think I can ever leave this bed,” I groaned, turning my head toward the pillow. “Can I just stay home with you today?”

I almost heard him smile as he settled in beside me, nudging my side with his elbow until I was facing him once more. His eyes were full and clear, holding not even a hint of whatever sorrow had claimed them the night before.

 _How does he do it?_ I wondered as I searched his flawless features. 

Whenever I cried, grief clung to me with a vengeance. After our mother’s funeral, my eyes were so swollen and heavy that I avoided going out in public for a week. I looked like the walking dead. But Taylor, adorned with flushed cheeks and beads of tears that trembled against his fine eyelashes, was made all the more beautiful beneath a pall of sadness. It was a particular form of glory that allowed him to shine while the rest of us suffered.

“You know I’d have absolutely no problem with that.” He ran a hand idly through my hair again, causing a pleasure-filled sigh to escape my pouting lips. “But I think your boss might. Now come on, get up. There’s a stack of chocolate-banana pancakes with your name on them, and you should eat them before they get cold.”

In that moment, I was struck with an almost desperate desire to stay close to him. It was a clinginess that I only allowed myself to express inwardly, but Taylor picked up on it all the same. The kisses he pressed against my lips as he dragged me gently but purposefully toward the kitchen were deep and comforting, like he was reassuring me that _everything is going to be just fine_ without saying the phrase itself.

I repeated the unspoken words to myself over and over again as I shoved forkfuls of delicious food into my mouth, needing them to be true. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

I slumped down into an empty chair in the breakroom, eager to give my aching arms and legs a rest. I’d been on my feet ever since arriving at work that morning, and while I was glad that my mind and body were fully occupied by various demands, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so completely exhausted. 

Starship Records was closed for the day, the entire staff tasked with preparing the main room for the following morning’s in-store performance and autograph signing. I cared very little about the featured ‘local’ band, The All-American Rejects—I’d gone to a few of their shows in the past and had hardly been impressed—but it was a fairly big deal for our store to host such a high-profile event, so we were all expected to put forth our best effort in order to make the place look presentable. 

Most of the time, my job was so mundane that it bordered on being totally mind-numbing, but there were days, such as this one, when it evoked an almost crippling sense of nostalgia. It was impossible not to be reminded of our former band and all of the perks that had come along with it. Just a few years ago, I never would have imagined that at twenty-two, I’d be sitting at a table inside of the record store down the road from our childhood home, wiping sweat and grime from my face with an old handkerchief after unfolding rows of tables and sweeping the floor until it practically gleamed. 

No, at that time, I’d still believed there was a lifetime of exhilarating success ahead of us, a future that involved sold-out shows and lines of fans so long that they stretched all the way down city blocks, farther than the eye could see.

But I had been wrong. I guess Mom was wise to always say, _You never know what’s around the corner…_

My train of thought was interrupted by Andie’s sudden appearance in the doorway, a wide grin on her face.

“There’s someone here to see you,” she sing-songed, stepping aside to make room for Dana.

My coworker cast me a knowing wink before slipping out of sight, making it all too clear that she believed Dana to be the mysterious love interest I’d recently acquired. 

Ever since I’d come back from Orlando, my romantic life had been the talk of the workplace. I’d put up with more teasing over the last few weeks than ever before, and that included the months following the worldwide debut of ’MMMBop.’ Yet as much as I longed to debunk Andie’s (and everyone else’s) theories about my supposed girlfriend, I didn’t quite know how to explain that I had a _boyfriend_ (and that he was my _brother_ at that!), so instead, I chose to let them think whatever they wanted to think and went about my way.

Dana wasted no time in entering the room and falling gracelessly into the seat across from me, her eyes twinkling behind her dark-framed glasses. Her hair was thrown into a messy bun, made even messier by the apparent wind outside. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked sarcastically.

She set a container down on the tabletop and rolled it toward me. 

“My mom recommended these for Tay. She said they’ll work wonders if he’s still feeling any discomfort.”

I could almost guarantee that Taylor would refuse any sort of painkillers no matter how much pain he was in, but I didn’t tell Dana that. Instead, I reached out and pocketed the small bottle of pills. 

“That was nice of her,” I said. 

“Yeah, well, she really misses your mom, and I think that by doing what she can to help you guys, she’s honoring her memory? I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t have even said that.” Dana bit her lip as she held my gaze, her usual cheekiness replaced by a look of genuine remorse. “I just… I don’t always know how to approach things like this. I can sense when Amy wants to talk about her mom and when she’d rather do anything but reminisce, but that’s only because I know her so well. You and that gorgeous brother of yours are a bit more difficult to read, I’m afraid.”

“It’s okay,” I assured her, molding my lips into a half-smile. 

“Also…" she continued, bowing her head almost guiltily. "I might have another reason for stopping by today."

I cocked an eyebrow at her curiously, watching her tap her fingernails against the table’s jagged edge. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought that Dana was actually nervous. And if I had been any more of an asshole, I most definitely would have mocked her for it.

“I just wanted you to know that I haven’t told Tristan about our plans for Thanksgiving. After what he’s been through, I’ll feel really badly if he has to spend the holiday alone, but I won’t invite him if you and Tay don’t want me to. I’m leaving it entirely up to you. I’d hate to step on anyone’s toes.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor at her diplomatic admission. I wasn’t used to Dana being so tactful or so readily accommodating. Taylor was right—she had a good heart—but she never wore it on her sleeve like this. She usually made me work to find it (and got immense satisfaction out of doing so). 

“Well, I can’t speak for Taylor, but if Tristan wants to come over for dinner next Thursday…” I paused, pushing a sheaf of hair from my eyes. “…then I guess that’s okay.”

The look of surprise on Dana’s face was nothing compared to the shock I felt with regard to the words I had just uttered. What’s even stranger is that I didn’t immediately regret saying them. A full minute ticked by, followed closely by several more, and I still didn’t take back what I said. I didn’t even stop Dana from sliding her chair toward me and wrapping her arms around me in a bone-crushing hug. 

_Maybe Taylor’s optimistic nature is finally starting to rub off on me,_ I thought, still locked inside of Dana’s tight embrace. 

Or maybe I had finally gone insane.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

After letting myself into the house, I drank in the sight of Taylor’s tall frame draped across the living room couch. 

His Toshiba was balanced on his knees as he squinted intently at the screen, but the moment he spotted me, he promptly snapped the laptop closed and placed it down on the coffee table before making his way over to me. He crossed the room in a few easy strides, greeting me with a long, rewarding kiss. When he pulled away, I glanced down at his arm and realized that his injury truly seemed to be healing, the skin around it not nearly as sallow or as angry as I remembered. Nor was he favoring it like he’d been doing the day before. 

Overcome with relief, I leaned in and kissed him once more, unable to resist slipping my hands beneath his thin t-shirt and across the smooth skin of his back. While he was much slimmer than I could ever hope to be, he was also remarkably solid, possessing a strength that grounded me whenever the rest of my world faltered. 

“How was work?” he asked, his blue eyes searching mine.

“Tiring.”

I felt guilty the instant the word escaped my mouth. Surely, the stresses of my measly job were nothing compared to what Taylor had to do at Fleming’s. But then again, my brother was better at handling whatever life chose to send his way. 

“Well, I hope you’re not _too_ tired.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” he placed his lips against my ear and spoke in a husky whisper, his long fingers inching down my sides. “You’ll need a lot of energy to survive what I’m about to do to you.”

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

Once our mother died, instead of going numb, my senses became much more heightened and I started picking up on things that I’d barely noticed before. For instance, Taylor always brewed a pot of coffee in the morning, even if it meant waking up at the crack of dawn in order to deliver a hot mug to my bedside before I left for work. He’d done the same for our mom on countless occasions; after she was diagnosed, Taylor prepared a thermos—decaf, at the oncologist’s insistence—for her to take with her to early morning treatments.

Since I wasn’t nearly as dependent upon coffee as Taylor was, I used to roll my eyes at his absolute _need_ for the stuff each and every day, but following our mother’s passing, I grew to understand that it wasn’t really about _coffee_ at all. No, it was his way of doing something nice for her, of helping make the harrowing drive to the cancer center a little bit more tolerable.

Taylor’s penchant for pleasing others had been a part of him for as long as I could remember, but it took something as grave and powerful as death for me to truly recognize it. There was an undercurrent of love and kindness beneath his actions that I’d taken for granted while growing up. 

He was so _beautiful_ , and not just physically, although I had to admit that his good looks were made even stronger by the grace of his spirit. He didn’t even have to sing to show off his gorgeous voice—the simple act of him speaking was evidence enough, the words striking the air with melodious certainty like they existed for the sole purpose of rolling off of his tongue. 

Sometimes, when we were in bed and he’d pull me in close to his chest and whisper my name, it was all I could do to hold myself together. The syllable echoed off of the surrounding walls and slammed into me, the impact so intense that my limbs turned to jelly and the breath was stolen from my lungs. During other, more playful encounters, he drawled my name in an exaggerated Southern accent, his cheeks red and stomach tight with suppressed laughter. 

He was endearing no matter what mood he was in.

If you had asked me just a few months ago to describe a typical evening in my boring life, I certainly wouldn’t have pictured myself gazing deeply into my brother’s eyes as he backed me into the sofa before gently falling down on top of me. Nor would I have been able to imagine the feeling of his velvety lips moving against mine like they were meant for nothing else.

How he managed to be so perfect all the time was beyond me. He reduced me to a quivering mess, a display of awkward limbs and raging hormones, and yet he didn’t seem to struggle with maintaining his composure. He undressed me with tender precision and then coated me with liquid-silky fingers, lust burning brightly in his clear blue eyes. And when he positioned himself above me, pressing his lips against my ear and murmuring _Zac_ over and over, the raspy sounds alone threatened to undo me before I had the chance to fill him.

Then there were the little things he did in the moments following our collective, shuddering release. He loved to kiss me after sex, his lips dancing along my chest to my shoulders until they found the ticklish spot right below my elbow. Our mouths eventually met in an electrifying crescendo of a kiss, like the grand finale to a brilliant fireworks display, and then we rested for awhile, not speaking but not needing to, basking in the pleasure of each other’s company.

My hand drifted to his hip and I traced patterns across the bone, enjoying the solid warmth of his body beneath my fingers. So much in this life was transitory, could vanish in an instant, but Taylor proved time and again that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Once I had surfaced from my post-orgasmic haze and my heart rate had returned to normal, I dropped my gaze to his lap and marveled at how stunning he was, even when he was only half-hard. The thought of him being in my mouth—or better yet, _inside of me_ —made me flushed and dizzy with desire.

“Hey, Tay?” I brushed my lips against the slender curve of his neck, drinking in his steady pulse. “Do you think that one of these days, we could—”

“Mmmhmm,” he replied without allowing me to finish the question. His eyelids fluttered closed and within seconds, he was fast asleep beside me.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

After a very late dinner of homemade fish and chips—a dish Taylor had been positively fanatical about ordering during our trips overseas when we were younger—we watched a movie and then went to sleep. At least, I assumed that Taylor was asleep from the continual rise and fall of his chest which was pressed against my back, his arm draped loosely around my torso.

But slumber refused to find me. I tried all of my usual tricks, flipping through a mental book of lyrics to the Beatles’ ‘Revolver’ and when that failed, reciting all the letters in the alphabet and numbers in an insufferably long sequence. Hours upon hours passed, and nothing worked. My mind was nothing if not stubborn, and once it set its sights on keeping me up all night, it did exactly that.

Maybe my insomnia was spurred on by nostalgia, or maybe my anxiety about Thanksgiving dinner that loomed in the near distance had thrown my subconscious into overdrive. At any rate, I didn’t sleep at all and wasn’t surprised to see a few iridescent beams of light cut through the glass windows of my bedroom shortly after sunrise. I was, however, very surprised when Taylor carefully withdrew his arm from around my waist and slipped quietly out of bed.

I should have done something to let him know I was awake: shifted on the mattress, opened my eyes and stretched, called out a groggy greeting. But I was paralyzed, rendered impossibly still beneath the covers, holding my breath as I listened to the telltale signs of him pulling on his clothes, punctuated by the sound of the door closing softly behind him.

I waited for the aroma of coffee beans to wrap itself around me, hoping that the familiar smell if nothing else would bring me comfort, but it never came. Instead, the startling roar of a car engine broke the silence, ringing through the air like a gunshot. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

When our band was home from tour, Taylor and our mom went on coffee dates once a week. They left the house early in the morning and proceeded to spend hours together in a cozy corner of Cuppa Joe, staying there until well after lunchtime. 

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous.

I’m sure they would have let me tag along if I’d insisted, but there was something almost sacred about their weekly outings that I didn’t dare disturb. And while I was curious, I never asked Taylor what they talked about, not even when we all knew that her time with us was coming to an end. She connected with him much more deeply than she did with me and Isaac. Our father sometimes even joked that she loved Taylor more than she loved _him_.

Although it was one of his favorite hangouts, Taylor refused to go back to the coffee house after she died. He didn’t even seem to like bearing near the place at all and began taking alternate routes home from work to avoid driving by it on his daily commute. So I was shocked when I saw him pull into the shop’s small parking lot on that sunny, crisp November morning.

The nagging voice of my conscience told me not to follow him, but did I listen to it? Of course not. 

My need to figure out what was going on with him far surpassed my fear of being caught, causing me to bring my own car to a stop at the edge of the parking lot. He opened his driver’s side door and walked swiftly toward the entrance, his hair catching vibrant strands of light and glistening like fine spun gold.

My heart hammered wildly in my chest as I searched the wide, paneled windows for his profile and tried to convince myself that everything was fine. Maybe, despite his measured breathing, he too had lain awake all night thinking about the past and had ultimately decided to revisit a place that housed so many bittersweet memories. Or maybe he was just craving a fancy latte and didn’t feel like going to the trouble of making a whole pot.

…Or maybe he was meeting Tristan.

At first, I didn’t recognize the man who climbed out of a large off-white SUV parked in a space just a few feet away. But when he pushed through the front door of the coffee shop and turned to pull it closed behind him, déjà vu stabbed into me like a sword. 

I knew that chiseled jaw and those misty, grey-green eyes that were piercing but also distant, like they held a secret but had promised not to tell. I even remembered his relaxed gait and how he leafed his fingers through his long, dark hair when he thought that no one else was looking.

He was much thinner than the last time I’d seen him at the work party Taylor hosted at our house last year, but he was still definitely Tristan. I was sure of that.

Overcome with confusion, sadness and rage, I balled my fingers into a tight fist and pummeled the steering wheel with force. Throwing tantrums never solved anything, but I couldn’t stop the tears from coursing down my cheeks or the heated refrain of _fuck, fuck, fuck_ from rising up inside of me. When my angry sobs finally abated, slowing to shallow and sputtering gasps, I leaned my head against the window with a loud sigh, feeling foolish and ashamed.

I left before I did something I’d regret, turning the stereo up to full volume to drown out my depressing thoughts as I drove away. As luck would have it, the song that hit my ears was one I couldn’t bear to listen to. ‘Songbird’ was a remarkable tale of love, not a story of deceit and disappointment. I punched at buttons violently until I landed on a much more fitting tune, one that spoke of injured hearts and unrequited longing.

The tears broke free again as I angled my car back onto the highway and headed to work, which was the last place I wanted to go. I wasn’t singing so much as I was choking on my feelings, wishing that I could climb into someone else’s skin and disappear forever. 

_Loving you isn't the right thing to do_  
How can I ever change things that I feel?  
If I could, maybe I'd give you my world  
How can I when you won't take it from me? 

_You can go your own way, go your own way_  
You can call it another lonely day  
You can go your own way, go your own way… 

_Tell me why everything turned around?_  
Packing up, shacking up's all you wanna do  
If I could, baby I'd give you my world  
Open up, everything's waiting for you 

_You can go your own way, go your own way_  
You can call it another lonely day  
You can go your own way, go your own way… 

_You can go your own way, go your own way_  
You can call it another lonely day  
You can go your own way, go your own way… 

_You can go your own way_  
You can call it another lonely day  
You can go your own way, go your own way… 

I should have known better than to fall head over heels in love with my own brother. What good could ever come of something that was so fundamentally wrong?


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

Although I would have much preferred to spend the day in bed, tucked beneath the covers in an effort to hide away from the rest of the world, I was required to be at Starship Records for nine grueling hours. 

The only upside was that work was so busy that the time passed relatively quickly, giving me little chance to dwell on Taylor’s secret early-morning meeting with Tristan. We’d spent the last several days preparing for the All American Rejects’ in-store concert and autograph signing, and I thought our efforts were a bit over-the-top, refusing to believe the event would draw much of a crowd. But by 10AM, I was surprised to find a line of eager fans wrapped twice around the building. I was even more shocked when Tyson, the band’s lead singer, clapped me on the back and addressed me by name like we were old friends, and then proceeded to talk to me about music for the better part of a half-hour.

However, once the performance and meet-and-greet were over and we were left with the dreaded task of cleaning up, the excitement of the day wore off and the sadness I’d been avoiding rose up with a vengeance. By the time 5PM rolled around, the fierce aching in my chest had spread outward and infected my whole body, leaving me to feel like I’d been hit head-on by a semi and then crushed to a pulp beneath its massive wheels.

To make matters worse, I hadn’t heard from Taylor. 

He always called or sent a few texts when I was on my lunch break, and even though our mid-day conversations were brief and often rushed, I relied on them to keep me sane. But I hadn’t received a single message or missed call all afternoon. 

I probably should have been ashamed by my dependency on him to remedy every single one of my bad moods—even those that were caused _by_ him—but I was far past the point of analyzing my infatuation. Trying to make sense of it would have been much like staring out across a vast and boundless sea in a bid to find the point where it began.

My love for him was just another fact of life, something I didn’t want to question but surely couldn’t live without. Psychologists would have a field day with me—I was sure of that. They’d try to convince me that what I felt for Taylor wasn’t true love at all, but merely the result of misguided feelings from my youth, when I’d longed for nothing more than to fit in and be accepted. 

Growing up, Isaac regarded me as an alien creature, someone truly not fit to survive on this planet, but whenever he tore me down, Taylor built me right back up again. He taught me how to be my own person, to care less about what others thought and more about staying true to myself. Taylor was always there to remind me that I was worth a damn, that my opinions mattered, and most importantly, that I was _loved_.

Which is why I couldn’t believe that he had gone behind my back to see Tristan, someone who he had assured me time and again was nothing more than a fling and a lust-fueled mistake in a moment of weakness. I couldn’t stand the thought of Taylor cheating on me and was tempted to write the whole thing off as a nightmare. Maybe everything I’d witnessed in the parking lot of Cuppa Joe that morning had been a cruel byproduct of sleepless delirium. 

“Hey, Zachariah!” Andie chirped from across the room.

I frowned but looked up anyway, knowing that I had no room to talk when it came to nicknames. During a chat with some coworkers in the breakroom a few weeks ago, I’d learned that Andie’s full name was Celandine and hadn’t let her live it down. She’d thus taken to calling me pretty much anything _but_ Zac ever since.

“Yeah?” I mumbled absently, shoving my cell phone back into my pocket. 

“A bunch of us are going out for happy hour at Caz’s tonight. Wanna come with?”

I wondered why she even bothered asking me to tag along on their various social outings; I always turned them down on account of being too tired or having something else to do, when the truth was I was simply eager to get home to Taylor. Yet she extended the invitation each week without fail, as if convinced that I would eventually see the light and decide that having a few drinks after work wasn’t the worst idea in the world.

And maybe it wasn’t. In fact, in that moment, it sounded pretty damn good. 

“Sure,” I agreed, cracking a grin when I saw her eyes grow to the size of saucers at my unexpected reply. “Count me in.” 

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

“I’m glad you decided to come out tonight.” Andie spun the stem of her wine glass between her fingers as she spoke, which was one of Taylor’s favorite ways to channel restless energy. 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t block him from my mind. 

I plucked my own drink from the table and took a long sip as I surveyed my surroundings. I wasn’t a huge fan of the Tulsa bar scene, but I had to admit that Caz’s was a fairly decent spot. In the middle of the city’s arts district, it drew an eclectic mix of hipsters, hippies, yuppies and wildcards such as myself. 

Taylor and I ended up there for a late-night drink and snack a few months back when we’d both been too tired to cook, and while the food was nothing to write home about—especially when compared to his stellar culinary skills—for basic pub fare, it wasn’t that bad. Plus, I got a kick out of the sign that hung proudly above the entrance: “Helping ugly people have sex since 1995!” It was crude, immature and offensive, but that didn’t stop Taylor and me from laughing hysterically for a good five minutes the first time we saw it. 

“Me too,” I answered honestly. 

Even though my mind inevitably drifted back to my brother every two seconds, happy hour was proving to be a welcome distraction. I was pleasantly tipsy thanks to the $1 beer special, and my frantic need to find out what was going on with Taylor had abated some, like a debilitating migraine shrinking to a slightly more tolerable headache. 

It was still painful, but it was bearable.

“So, how are things going with your girlfriend?”

I bit down on my lip so hard that I tasted iron. I knew she was referring to Dana. Everyone at work believed we were a couple, and I played along with that faulty assumption because I had no clue how to explain my real relationship to them. 

What was I supposed to say? _Hey, guys, you know my brother Taylor? Well, we’re fucking now—not only that, but we’re very much in love. Isn’t that exciting?_

Bitter laughter stung the back of my throat, and I washed it down with another swig of beer. Realizing that Andie’s eyes were still trained on me, her head tilted curiously to the side, I spat out the first answer I could think of.

“Fine.”

“Uh oh.” She paused to take another sip of wine. “Trouble in paradise?”

“No,” I replied quickly, tightening my grip on the beer glass. “Yes. I mean… I really just don’t know.” I gazed across the table at her helplessly, feeling my nice little buzz float away as easily as driftwood on a current. “This is the first serious relationship I’ve ever been in, so I’m probably just being an idiot, but I can’t shake the feeling that he— _she_ ’s hiding something from me.”

“Well, you know her a lot better than I do, but when we met the other day, she seemed reasonable enough. Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“Oh, she’s very reasonable, and caring, and selfless, and pretty much every other positive adjective you could think of.” I smiled wistfully despite myself, then sighed and stared into the filmy amber liquid at the bottom of the glass. “It’s just a messy situation. Her ex—or at least, a guy she used to fool around with—recently came back into her life, and they met up this morning.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I followed her,” I admitted glumly, hanging my head in shame.

“Oh, Zac.” Forfeiting our ridiculous ongoing name game, Andie reached out and gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Do you trust her?”

“More than anyone in the world,” I whispered.

“Then be honest with her. Tell her how you’re feeling. If she’s as wonderful as you say she is, then I’m sure she has a good reason for doing what she did.”

“You’re right,” I said, nodding with renewed vigor.

But if she was right, then why was such a strong sense of doubt weighing down on me, sinking through my skin and straight into my bones, convincing me that we never know other people as well as we think we do, even those we love more than life itself?

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

Shortly after my little talk with Andie, I abandoned my resolution to stick only to beer and moved on to the harder stuff. By the time I finished chasing my third Jack and Coke with a Jager shot that Ben, the floor manager, had pressured us all into taking (and that burned like hell on the way down), I was positively shit-faced. I couldn’t tell the difference between the floor and the ceiling, or whether I was thinking silent thoughts or speaking them aloud. The room had transformed into a dizzy blur of color, motion and sound, making me feel like I was trapped on that terrible spinning teacup ride at Disney World. 

I hated that ride, but Taylor adored it. Although he had a crippling fear of heights, he had no problem twirling around in endless circles until he hurled. 

Except he never hurled— _I_ did. 

During our family’s first trip to the Florida theme park, he dragged me onto that godforsaken ride three times in a row. While he had the time of his life, I got so sick and dehydrated that I wound up in the infirmary for the rest of the afternoon. Overcome with guilt, Taylor spent the money he’d been saving for a brand-new shiny red bike on a giant stuffed panda for me from the Magic Kingdom’s overpriced gift shop. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it wasn’t even the toy itself that cheered me up that day. It was the sight of my brother approaching with a lopsided grin, his cheeks flushed with sun-kissed adrenaline, his blue eyes bright and sparkling with hope as he struggled to keep the panda balanced on his shoulders.

“His name was Petey,” I slurred to no one in particular. 

Whatever happened to Petey, anyway? I hadn’t thought about that stuffed animal in years, but I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming urge to throw my arms around him and never let him go.

God, I missed Taylor. Where was he? And why hadn’t he called?

“Ready to go?” Andie grabbed her purse and hopped down from the bar stool, waiting for me to follow suit. 

It took me a minute, but I finally recalled the hazy conversation we’d had during our last round of shots that involved plans to go to Hey Mambo for pizza and then possibly hit up another bar. But the only place I wanted to go was home.

I shook my head and instantly regretted having moved at all. The room was still bobbing and swaying all around me, like an ocean in a storm.

“You guys go on ahead,” I insisted, hoping that I didn’t sound half as drunk as I felt. “I think I’m ready to call it a night.”

“But your car’s still at work,” she pointed out. “How will you get home?” 

“Tay’s coming to pick me up,” I lied.

Seemingly satisfied with my answer, Andie gave me a loose, one-armed hug and a wave before leading the inebriated pack out of the bar. Once they were gone, I pulled out my phone and squinted down at it until the tiny, digitized numbers on the screen came into focus. Then I scrolled through my list of contacts, landed on a name that definitely wasn’t Taylor, and pressed the call button. 

“Hello?”

Despite the fact that I was far from sober, I was able to detect confusion in the voice that came across the line. I sucked in a deep breath and held it, not trusting myself to speak as another undulating wave of dizziness washed over me. After making the call, I had migrated to a relatively quiet corner of the bar, wrapping myself in the confines of dusty and secluded shadows—but who was I hiding from? My coworkers had long since departed, and no one else in the room knew me from Adam. 

In the end, I could only conclude that I was trying to hide from _myself_.

“Zac?” the voice repeated, causing a knot of anxiety to twist and tighten in the pit of my stomach.

Wasn’t alcohol supposed to loosen people up, to make them happier and more carefree? If that were true, then why did I feel deflated, devoid of all hope? Why were beads of nervous sweat breaking out across my brow? Why were the walls closing in on me? 

Before I could answer, a man seated at a nearby table was seized by a fit of violent, drunken laughter and promptly lost grip on his beer glass. The tumbler crashed to the ground and shattered instantly, fractured bits of glass lighting up the floor like diamonds, reminding me that everything has an expiration date. 

That we’re all destined to break eventually. 

Our mother was such a heartbreakingly accurate example of this. She’d been so strong, so resilient, so fundamentally _good_ , and yet even she hadn’t been able to withstand the crushing power of cancer. Not a day passed by without me reflecting on how unfair it was that her life had been cut short when she still had so much of it to live. God, what I wouldn’t give to hear her voice, to feel the softness of her hand against my cheek, to see her smile again. 

“Zac, are you there? Are you okay?” The voice grew louder, taking on a shrill tone of concern. “You’re really starting to freak me out.”

“I’m here,” I mumbled hoarsely, electing not to answer the second question because of all the many things I was at that moment, _okay_ wasn’t one of them.

Of all the people I could have called, I’m not sure what possessed me to choose Amy. We certainly hadn’t stuck to our promise to keep in touch. In fact, save for a few friendly texts here and there that never went past the surface, we’d hardly spoken at all since our road trip. If I were smart, I would have called Dana—or better yet, _Taylor_. The alcohol had surely loosened my tongue enough for me to wrangle the truth out of him and put my mind at ease. 

But I wasn’t smart... no. I was a goddamn idiot. For what sort of smart, respectable person finds himself alone at a bar, drowning his troubles in cheap liquor and a seemingly permanent cloud of secondhand cigarette smoke?

“So, what’s up? How’ve you been?” My voice caught despite my effort to sound cool and casual. Even to my own distorted ears, the words were thick and heavy with the weight of sadness.

Without giving her time to respond, I abandoned my futile attempt at small talk and forged on. 

“Look, I’m sorry for calling you out of the blue like this, but I…” Trailing off, I breathed out a sigh and traced my finger along the jagged edge of the tabletop. “I really don’t know who else to talk to.”

“Where are you right now?”

“At a bar downtown.”

“Alone?”

“I came here with some friends from work, but they left awhile ago.”

“They left you there by yourself?” she asked, sounding incredulous.

“Well, no. They all wanted to bar hop, but I wasn’t really interested, so I told them to go on without me.”

“Do you have a way to get home?”

“My car’s at work, but I can just call a cab…”

I rubbed a sweaty palm along the thigh of my jeans and tried to ignore the overwhelming din of happiness that surrounded me. I watched a girl take a sip of her boyfriend’s drink and then reach for his hand, threading their fingers together comfortably, and while it was such a simple, _normal_ gesture, it stabbed through me like a fine-edged sword. It seemed like everyone around me had someone to talk to, to laugh with, to lean across the table and kiss, but I had no one.

 _That’s not true. You have Taylor,_ came the distant but unyielding voice of reason, like the sun cautiously approaching on the heels of a violent storm.

But even if I still had him—which I was beginning to seriously doubt—it wasn’t like we could ever be physically affectionate with each other in public. Maybe if we moved to another country, thousands of miles away from all the people who had watched us grow up, who knew we were brothers, we could be just like any other couple. Maybe we wouldn’t have to keep our relationship behind the relative safety of locked doors like it was some dark, dirty secret that we were ashamed of.

Maybe that was why Taylor had snuck out that morning. Maybe he was ashamed of me. Maybe he realized that he’d much rather be with Tristan but didn’t know how to tell me. The more I turned the bitter thought over in my mind, the more sense it made. Why shouldn’t he be ashamed? I wasn’t even half as attractive as he was, and unlike him, I didn’t have any concrete goals or dreams. Even if we weren’t related, we wouldn’t have wound up together forever; Taylor would have grown tired of me eventually, and I was a fool for ever thinking otherwise.

“Zac?”

“Yeah?” I answered absently.

“I’m coming to pick you up.”

“What? No…that’s crazy!” I exclaimed, grasping onto a fleeting shred of clarity through my intoxicated haze. “You’re in Fort Smith, right? That’s like, two hours away. I can’t let you—,”

“If you’d been listening to anything I just said…” Amy paused in a display of exaggerated patience. “…then you’d know that I’m at Dana’s.”

“No shit?”

“No shit,” she chuckled. “I got in earlier this afternoon, and I’ll be staying here all week. Dana’s still at work, though, and their new houseguest isn’t around, so I’m actually bored out of my mind right now. Let me come pick you up.”

The mere mention of Tristan pulled my lips into a sour frown, and I bit my tongue to stop a spiteful comment from escaping.

“Alright,” I relented, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “You don’t have to do this, though. I can just call my coworker and ask her for a ride…”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t even think twice about rescuing me from Harrison’s apartment when I was in trouble. It’s only fair that I return the favor,” she said. “Plus, it sounds like you could use a friend.”

I couldn’t argue with her there.

“Thanks,” I replied quietly.

“It’s no problem, really,” she insisted. “Just text me the name and address of the bar, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

I had just slipped my phone back into my pocket when I got the distinct feeling I was being watched. It was a sixth sense I had developed over time, a consequence of so many years of being in the spotlight. Sure enough, when I glanced up, I caught sight of a tall guy in skintight jeans walking toward me—the same man who had spilled his drink all over the floor earlier. He had a fresh one in his hand now, his hazel eyes twinkling as he approached with unmasked confidence. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

I shrugged, toying with the zipper of my hoodie to avoid making eye contact, to prevent myself from responding to his smile and the appealing curve of his lips. His eyes were decked with thick, dark lashes, and the slope of his nose looked almost too perfect to be real. He was well-groomed and fairly clean-cut, save for the faint hint of stubble on his jawline and the silver ring looped through his cartilage. 

“A man of few words, I take it?” When I failed to respond, he nodded and slid onto the stool beside me. “That’s fine. Words are overrated anyway, if you ask me.”

He took a long sip of his drink and then made a show out of licking a stray drop of beer from his bottom lip. A ripple of desire coursed through me then, and though I tried to shake it off, it clung onto my nerve endings with stubborn force, as though desperate to prove that I could still feel things after all. 

That I hadn’t gone entirely numb. 

“Have I seen you around before?” he asked.

“Probably not. I don’t get out much.”

“That’s a shame.” Continuing to hold my gaze, he leaned in until our arms touched. 

His body heat radiated through the fabric of my sweatshirt, making me shiver with forbidden delight. 

“I’m Reid,” he spoke huskily, his mouth just a breath away from my own. “Want a drink?”

My conscience screamed at me to act rationally and politely decline, but the silent words of warning were soon eclipsed by the loud and heady voice of lust. Plus, if Taylor thought it was fine to go out with another guy, wasn’t I allowed to have a drink with one? 

“Okay. I’ll have whatever you’re having.” I nodded toward the glass in his hand. “Oh, and my name’s Zac.”

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

It wasn’t long before my buzz had returned in full force, my worries retreating into the deep recesses of my mind. One drink led to another, and shortly after ordering our third round, I found myself pressed up against the wall with Reid’s lips fastened to my neck. 

It was a far cry from being with Taylor. Reid didn’t know how to kiss me with gentle precision, he didn’t have the map of my body committed to memory, he wasn’t able to reduce me to putty in his hands by just a single touch. It felt wrong in every way, but I was too far gone to tell him to stop. After the hellish day I’d had, it was good to feel _wanted_ again, so I let him keep going. 

“So, Zac.” As his mouth grazed the side of my ear, I could almost taste the nutty tang of beer on his breath along with a bite of sweet cologne. “How do you feel about coming back to my place?” 

A chorus of whistles and obnoxious catcalls grabbed my attention, and I pushed Reid away in a bid to catch my bearings. My heart pounded fiercely against my ribcage, pumping a disconcerting mixture of adrenaline and guilt through my veins. With each wild, unsteady beat came a sickening reminder of the terrible mistake I had made. 

_Liar. Cheater. Hypocrite._

Reid’s smug grin made it clear that he was oblivious to the internal war raging just beneath the surface of my skin. As a matter of fact, he looked entirely pleased with himself, whereas I would’ve gladly taken a gun to my head and blown my brains out because of what we had just done. 

Meanwhile, I looked around and finally located the source of the commotion: Amy stood in the doorway, attracting nearly every pair of eyes in the room. I couldn’t blame them for gawking. She was beautiful even on a bad day, but in that moment, she truly seemed to glow. Her rosy cheeks matched the red pea coat that hugged her slender frame, and her face looked a bit fuller and even more radiant than I remembered, framed by long, wavy strands of honey-tinted hair that had come loose from her ponytail.

Her eyes lit up as soon as she spotted me, causing Reid to stiffen visibly beside me, his features darkening as if a shade had been swiftly drawn across them. 

“Let me guess… she’s your girlfriend,” he muttered.

Not knowing what to say or do, I simply nodded. I had all but mastered the art of stretching the truth lately. What was one more lie?

“Got it. Have a nice night,” he spat, wandering off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. 

“Who is that guy?” Amy questioned once I joined her in the doorway, her eyebrows raised as Reid sulked by the bar and stared daggers at us while guzzling the last of his beer. 

“It’s a long, stupid story, and I’m _way_ too drunk to tell it right now,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “Let’s just get out of here, okay?”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

A cloud of mixed emotions followed me out of Caz’s and into Amy’s car. 

I was far too drunk to make sense of what I’d done, but that didn’t stop me from retreating deep inside of myself where paranoia, guilt and doubt were tangled together like insects caught in a spider’s web. 

My love for Taylor wasn’t just in my heart; it was in my _bones_. Despite how morally “wrong” it was, loving him was an instinct as natural as breathing or opening my eyes to greet a brand-new day. He meant everything to me… so why had I kissed a total stranger who meant nothing? What if my inebriated slip-up destroyed our relationship forever? Or what if Taylor was cheating on me with Tristan and things between us were already over, but I just didn’t know it yet?

I breathed out a sigh and closed my eyes against the tiny rivers of light that spilled across the windshield from surrounding street lamps. When I opened them a minute later, I found Amy staring at me from the driver’s seat with her chin resting in her hand, a cautiously impish half-smile on her lips. Before I could ask her what was so amusing, her voice drifted through the silence like a mild evening breeze.

“So, your friend in there was really cute.”

“He’s not my friend,” I muttered, dropping my head against the window.

The reckless motion should have hurt like hell, but my entire body had grown so limp and heavy beneath the combined weight of alcohol and sadness that I didn’t even feel the impact.

“You don’t have to be ashamed,” she began, her pretty eyes filled with sympathy. “I know you’re probably worried about what people think, and I get that, but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be yourself around me. I’m your friend, Zac. I’m here to support you, not pass judgment.”

Her words caused me to sit up with a start, fear and confusion pulsing through me so forcefully to the point that I was physically shaking. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought I was on the verge of having a seizure.

“Ashamed?” I repeated anxiously.

A fiery blush rose swiftly to her cheeks, painting them the same striking shade of red as the pea coat she was wearing. She shifted her attention to the inert steering wheel and drummed her fingers against it in a light rhythm before answering me.

“Dana told me about your… _situation_.” The last word came out hastily, as though it had put a bad taste in her mouth that she was all too eager to get rid of. 

And I honestly couldn’t blame her if it had. I didn’t know what had prompted Dana to tell her about me and Taylor—especially since she promised me time and again that her lips were sealed—nor did I care to ask. It was foolish to have expected her to keep such a huge secret in the first place. 

I held Amy’s gaze for a long time, willing my heart to slow its aggressive hammering in my chest, not trusting myself to speak. But the words poured from my mouth of their own accord, spurred on by a sudden (albeit drunken) impulse to stop lying and simply be honest—even if the truth was so very far from simple.

“I know it’s really fucked up to want your own brother, and I swear that I didn’t plan for any of this to happen… in fact, I don’t even know _how_ it happened. It kind of just did, you know? Not that it matters now, anyway.” 

I put an end to my rambling with a sad shake of my head, willing away the hot clusters of tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. 

I generally hated feeling sorry for myself—not only because it didn’t accomplish anything, but because it reminded me of all the times Isaac had successfully ripped my self-esteem to shreds, causing me to slip and falter on the very same ground my brothers walked so confidently. 

Taylor was always there to catch me before I fell, but sometimes I didn’t _want_ to need him so much. My dependency on Taylor became much like an addiction over time, something that started out harmless and wound up lethal, something that took up so much room inside of me that I wondered when it would consume every last bit of me. If Taylor were to leave me, he’d take away my heart and soul along with my sole reason for being, reducing me to nothing but an empty shell.

I was so caught up in my tangential train of thought that I didn’t notice Amy’s open-mouthed, wide-eyed stare, or that all of the vibrant color had drained from her face. Her state of total shock finally registering with me, I met her gaze with a confused look of my own.

“Dana only told me you’re gay, Zac,” she clarified quietly, her voice cracking despite her obvious attempts to keep it level. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out, smoothing over her glossy curtain of hair with a trembling hand. “She didn’t tell me anything about… about you and Taylor.”

“Oh.” Fuck my life. “Well, now you know, I guess?”

My attempt at a lighthearted chuckle came out all wrong, exploding through the silence like a bomb of nervous energy, the unexpected force rattling us both. 

“There’s a restroom in there, right?” Amy gestured across the parking lot toward Caz’s (which, in my current haze, was nothing but a blurry mass of bricks and muted lights in the distance), her eyes glazing over slightly as she spoke.

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I’m not feeling that sick anymore,” I assured her, recalling the look of sheer terror that had crossed her features when I’d admitted to feeling dizzy and nauseated upon exiting the bar.

“No, I am,” she announced before opening the car door and bolting.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

The unforgiving coldness of an anonymous bathroom floor isn’t supposed to bring a person comfort. If anything, it should remind them just how far from okay they are. Yet I felt remarkably at peace as I leaned back against the tiled wall and listened to Amy purge the contents of her stomach until there was nothing left to give. As twisted as it sounds, it was almost nice to see someone _else_ fall apart for once.

That is, until I realized that I was most likely the reason she’d gotten so sick in the first place.

After rinsing her mouth out a few times and running a damp paper towel over her pale face, she joined me on the grimy floor, offering me the faintest hint of a weak smile as she slumped down beside me and expelled a weary sigh. I probably should have pointed out that her rushed journey from the car had actually landed her in the men’s bathroom, not the women’s, but she looked so utterly drained and exhausted that I didn’t have the heart to make her move.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, the words muffled against the fabric of my hoodie.

“Don’t be,” I replied. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I just dropped this huge bomb in your lap without warning. My relationship with Tay doesn’t even make sense to _me_ half the time, so I don’t blame you for not agreeing with it… or for thinking it’s disgusting.”

“No.” She glanced up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and imploring. “It definitely caught me off-guard, and I’m not going to pretend I understand it, but I don’t think it’s disgusting. That’s not even why I got sick. It’s just…”

She broke eye contact with me and diverted her gaze to the ground, taking in a long breath and letting it out slowly.

“I’m pregnant,” she finished quietly.

“You’re _what_?!”

“Hey, you can’t pretend that my news is juicier than you having the hots for your own brother,” she argued in a semi-joking fashion, jabbing me in the side. 

“I guess you’re right,” I agreed. “But, I mean… how did this happen? Are you even _seeing_ anyone right now?”

“It’s Harrison’s.” 

Her reply was fractured and distant, making her sound miles away although she was right next to me, and I knew without any further explanation that she was referring to the day she had asked me to come to her rescue. The day Taylor and I found her on the curb in front of her ex-boyfriend’s apartment, looking bruised and broken. 

“Oh, Amy…” 

“Please don’t,” she cut me off, her voice barely above a whisper. “Since it’s still so early, I haven’t even told anyone except for my family and very close friends, but even they can’t seem to understand why I want this. That despite our ups and downs and all the shit he’s put me through over the years, I love him… that I’ve never stopped loving him. Do I think things between us will ever be normal, or even remotely stable? No. But he’s the only guy I’ve ever loved and can actually see myself having some sort of future with. And maybe we’ll never end up together, but if keeping this baby means that I get to keep a piece of _him_ , then I know I’m making the right choice.”

She rested her head on my shoulder then, her speech appearing to have drained all the remaining energy from her body. 

“I was just going to say I understand.” I brushed a handful of golden tendrils from her forehead before wrapping my arm around her waist, feeling her relax against me. 

There was so much more I could have said.

I could have told her just how much I could relate to her—for I too kept my heart hidden from most of the world, tucked away from their endless questions and prying eyes of judgment. I too knew what it was like to love someone you’re not supposed to love. But in that moment, silence seemed much more fitting, so I simply held her while her breathing evened out, relishing the fact that learning each other’s deepest secrets had brought us closer together somehow.

The tranquil quiet was rudely interrupted when a man barged into the bathroom, the door slamming behind him with an angry clatter. As my luck would have it, the intruder just so happened to be Reid, and he shot us a glare ablaze with equal parts jealousy and venom before stalking off toward the urinals. 

“And this is our cue to leave,” I murmured into Amy’s hair. “What d'ya say we get out of here for real this time?”

She nodded, taking my outstretched hand and letting me help her up from the floor.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

Following a brief detour to Steak ‘n Shake (because despite having just been violently ill, Amy was hit with a sudden, intense craving for a Heath Bar milkshake, and I decided to order a plate of chili cheese fries to soak up the rest of the alcohol in my system), she dropped me off at Starship Records to pick up my car. 

After assuring her that I had sobered up enough to make the short drive home without risking my own life or anyone else’s, and promising to text her the second I pulled into the driveway, we exchanged one more hug and went our separate ways. 

When I saw Taylor’s car parked in its usual space, a distinct sense of relief joined forces with the gut-wrenching pain and humiliation coursing through my veins. I still had no fucking clue how to confess that I had followed him to Cuppa Joe that morning like some kind of creepy stalker, or that I was now in the running for world’s worst boyfriend for my asinine antics at the bar, but at least he was home. 

At least he hadn’t left me. 

But the reprieve from my overwhelming state of distress was short-lived, shattering the moment I opened the front door and stepped across the threshold. There was a din of voices coming from the kitchen, alerting me to the fact that Taylor was not alone.

I peered around the corner as stealthily as I could manage, only to find Tristan standing dangerously close to my brother, one hand resting on his shoulder while the other traced soft circles on his sweater-clad back. Although Taylor’s face was turned away from me, the sadness coming off of him was palpable, and I knew even without seeing him that he was crying.

“You can’t keep on going like this—not unless you want to drive yourself insane,” Tristan said gently, combing his fingers through strands of Taylor’s long, lustrous hair. “Plus, Zac deserves to know the truth. You’ve got to tell him as soon as he gets home.”

“Tell me what?” I questioned, emerging from the shadows and into the harsh, blinding light of the room.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.” - Elizabeth Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This story is set in 2007 and is from Zac's POV, unless otherwise noted.

In the minutes that followed, I learned that it is, in fact, entirely possible to have an out-of-body experience. 

I felt like I was floating, but not in the blissfully content sort of way that followed an amazingly positive encounter, such as having mind-blowing sex with Taylor. No, it was as though I’d been ripped away from my own body by some cruel and unseen force, and the further away I drifted, the more hazy and distorted my senses became. I could feel my heart pounding out a panicked, unwieldy rhythm in my chest, but I couldn’t do a damn thing to slow it down. I could hear Taylor talking, but despite the fact that we were just a few feet away from each other, his voice and all of its familiar raspiness sounded more like a distant, haunting memory than the actual thing.

“You okay, man?” Tristan’s words brought me crashing back to reality, his fingers grazing the well-worn sleeve of my hoodie.

“Don’t touch me,” I snapped through gritted teeth, flinging his arm away.

The concern in his eyes was evident, and I knew deep down that he wasn’t trying to harm me, but all rational thought had escaped me, replaced by the crushing fear of losing the best thing that had ever happened to me. 

“Whoa, sorry.” He retreated several paces, which conveniently landed him back at Taylor’s side. It struck me then just how good they looked together, like two models on side-by-side pages of the same magazine. “You just looked like you were about to pass—”

“Trist,” my brother cut him off gently.

Under normal circumstances, I would have been boiling with rage at the mere thought of Taylor calling an ‘ex’ by such an affectionate nickname, but how could I be angry with him when he looked so tired and defeated, his blue eyes radiating that same tangible sadness I’d detected earlier? 

“Do you mind if I talk to Zac alone?” he continued in a tone that was much more like telling than asking. 

“No, go ahead. But please call or text me if you need anything. I mean it, okay?”

“Okay,” Taylor agreed with a nod.

Tristan then placed a hand on Taylor’s waist and leaned in until their foreheads practically touched. As the surprisingly tender scene unfolded right in front of me, I felt my impulsive Steak ‘n Shake purchase wreaking havoc on my stomach and threatening to come back up. If they had kissed, I probably would have vomited all over myself before landing on the floor in a pathetic heap, destined to rot in my own bile for the rest of time. But instead, I just watched as Tristan whispered a few soft words into my brother’s ear while giving him an awkward, one-armed hug before pulling away and making a brisk exit.

A loud latching sound confirmed his departure, leaving me to stare at Taylor imploringly. As the seconds ticked by, I found myself revisiting the same prayers I’d depended on when our mom had first been diagnosed with cancer. 

_Please don’t take her away from me,_ I’d pleaded, sometimes silently and other times aloud in the privacy of my bedroom. As I crushed my tear-stained face into the pillow to muffle my sobs, I vowed to be a better son, to try to ease some of her burdens, to learn to be less selfish and demanding and to never again take her for granted. I would have done anything to be allowed more time with her. 

In the end, the cancer won, as it almost always does—but the fight hadn’t left me. I was willing to do whatever it took to keep Taylor, to prove that what we shared couldn’t be destroyed by anything or anyone. 

Maybe he was fleetingly distracted by Tristan, or maybe he was having second thoughts about us, but I was determined to show him that my love for him went as deep as the ocean and that it would never run dry. But when he sank down into a chair at the kitchen table and whispered “I’m so sorry,” his voice breaking to reveal a weakness I hadn’t seen in him since the day our mother passed away, my epic words of fortitude and everlasting love died as quickly as a candle in the wind. 

I suddenly felt so very cold and empty. 

“For what? What’s going on?”

I collapsed into the seat beside him, my legs shaking in their flimsy denim confines as an icy chill traveled the length of my spine.

“For not being honest with you,” he spoke, looking directly into my eyes.

 _Oh, God, here it comes,_ I thought, sucking in a deep breath in a futile attempt to brace myself. _He’s going to admit to cheating on me, which means that I’m going to have to confess my drunken slip-up. And then what? Will he move out? Will I? Or will we figure out a way to coexist like most normal brothers do (the ones who don’t sleep with each other)?_

“I know you’ve been seeing Tristan behind my back,” I blurted out. 

I hadn’t planned on beating him to the punch like that, but evidently my tongue was still much too loose thanks to all the alcohol lingering in my system. 

“What?”

“When you left the house this morning to go to Cuppa Joe, I followed you,” I said. “I know I shouldn’t have, just like I shouldn’t have kissed that random guy at the bar when I was feeling depressed and so alone… but what can I say? I’m not perfect like you. I was bound to fuck things up sooner or later.”

I bowed my head then, trailing my index finger along a groove I had carved into the once-pristine wooden surface of the table with a butter knife when I was maybe nine or ten years old. Was I a destructive person by nature? Had I taught myself to ruin every good thing that came my way because I didn’t truly believe that I deserved it?

I hadn’t thought far ahead enough to anticipate Taylor’s reaction, but I wasn’t surprised when the air between us fell impossibly still and silent. My brother wasn’t a fan of melodramatic scenes—not even in the privacy of his own home. 

Despite my desire to dissipate into dust and seep through the cracks in the floorboards to avoid the tense and heartbreaking conversation that was sure to unfold in a matter of minutes, curiosity eventually got the best of me and I lifted my eyes to find Taylor studying me quietly, his lips parted as though he wanted to speak but wasn’t quite sure what to say. 

“Are you drunk?”

As he spoke, he held me in a piercing, unwavering gaze, making me feel like the rest of the world had been blown to pieces and we were the only two people left in it.

“No.” When he narrowed his eyes at me knowingly, I shrugged sheepishly and admitted, “Okay, yeah, maybe I’m a little drunk…”

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair, the silky blonde tresses falling right back into place once they sifted through his fingers.

“Wherever you were, you could have called me. You _should_ have called me.” He reached for my hand, thumbing a featherlight pattern across my palm. “I love you too much to even think about something happening to you. You know that, right?”

“I don’t know _what_ I know anymore. I don’t have much experience with this stuff, but I thought we had a good thing going… a _really_ good thing.” I paused, feeling the hot sting of tears approaching. “I guess I was wrong.”

I broke eye contact with him again in one last-ditch effort to keep the tears at bay, and the next thing I knew, I had fallen deeply into a memory. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

We should have seen it coming, but none of us were prepared for the moment she closed her eyes for the very last time. By then, we’d grown so accustomed to false alarms that we checked in on her every half-hour to feel for a pulse, to ensure that she was still breathing. 

It was Taylor who witnessed her last precious moments with us, and he pushed open my bedroom door, pulling me from one of the many fictional worlds I depended on to take me away from the unbearable reality we were trapped in. 

I knew instantly that she was gone. 

He lowered himself onto the edge of my bed and sat there for what could have been minutes or hours. When his shoulders began to shake, his eyes wet with unshed tears, I tossed my book to the floor and gathered his thin body in my arms, feeling our heartbeats adopt the same rhythm over time. 

Soon we were both crying, forehead to forehead, his cheeks painted with my tears and vice versa. 

_I love you, I love you, I love you,_ we chanted over and over to our mother. To each other.

*** * * * * * * * * * * ***

“You weren’t wrong.”

The clear, pristine blue of Taylor’s eyes cut through my trembling veil of tears like the sun casting its majestic and impervious light across a stormy sky. 

How was it possible for him to be related to me? He was too beautiful to be real.

“You weren’t wrong,” he repeated. “We have a good thing going—the _best_ thing, if you ask me—and I’m so sorry for leaving this morning. But it wasn’t what you think. I’m not cheating on you. I just…” He trailed off, his brow furrowed in thought. “Like I told you, I helped Tristan out when his life fell to pieces, and he said he’d be there for me if I needed him. And, well… I needed him today.”

“I’m not following,” I said softly.

“Remember this?” He lifted up his previously injured hand, which was almost fully healed save for a small, ruby red scar tattooed on his wrist.

I nodded.

“When you asked me if I went to the hospital that day and I said ’no,’… I lied,” he said.

“I’m still not following.”

“It all happened so quickly. I remember the collision, and I vaguely recall feeling pain when the glass broke, but everything after that is a total blur,” he said. “It seemed like one minute, I was carrying a tray of drinks to a table, and the next, I was in a hospital bed.”

“You fainted?”

“Apparently, I did. And then Lorie called an ambulance to take me to the ER. When I finally woke up, I was at Saint Francis.”

“Jesus, Tay,” I breathed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he replied, tightening his grip on my hand. “Plus, I didn’t want to make you go back to that place when you didn’t have to. God knows we were there enough when Mom was sick…”

“But this is different! You weren’t dying… you’re not even sick,” I pointed out. “You probably just passed out from the shock, or because you lost too much blood. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“No, Zac, you don’t—,”

“Let me finish,” I cut him off, my voice rising. “You just told me that you can’t stand the thought of anything happening to me. Well, did you ever stop to think that _I_ feel the same way about _you_? So maybe I don’t love hospitals—that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to be there with you. Hell, you could wind up in the emergency room for a case of the goddamn hiccups and I’d still want you to tell me! I know you feel like you have to look out for me because you’re my brother, and I love that about you, but I’m allowed to look out for you, too! I love you so much…”

I closed the negligible space between us and kissed him hard, running my hands through his hair as our tongues danced together, relishing the little gasp of pleasure that left his mouth and ventured into mine. I wasn’t usually so bold and dominant, preferring to let him take the lead, but in that moment, I found that I couldn’t hold back. I was tired of holding back, of constantly reining in the desire to get as close to him as I possibly could. 

“So fucking much,” I mumbled, pecking his lips once more for emphasis.

Then Taylor cupped my chin in his hand and kissed me with more passion and desperation than he ever had before. Our kisses were always infused with so much feeling, but this one in particular felt different, almost dangerous, like a kiss two lovers might share before jumping out of a moving airplane without knowing if they’ll survive the fall.

When we pulled apart, I was shocked to find that his eyes had grown dark and distant. It was then I realized that I still didn’t know the whole story.

“Wait,” I began, swallowing around the knot of anxiety that threatened to cut off my air supply. “I guess I can kinda understand why you didn’t want me to know about your trip to the hospital last week… but why did you need Tristan’s help _today_?”

“The doctors at Saint Francis wanted me to come back for a few follow-up tests, and they told me to bring someone with me in case I didn’t feel up to driving home.”

“So you went to Tristan instead of me?”

“C’mon, it’s not like that,” he insisted.

“Really? Then what _is_ it like?”

“I knew you had an event going on at work, and—,”

“That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it!” I cried, my frustration peaking at an all-time high. “I couldn’t care less about that job. I would have called out in a heartbeat in order to help you. Why don’t you ever let me help you? And what’s with all the secrets? What the hell kind of tests did you have done, anyway?”

Taylor sighed again, massaging his temple with his free hand. 

The heavy bags beneath his eyes and the crow’s feet that lined them made him look so much older than twenty-four. The last few years hadn’t been easy for anyone in our family, but Taylor was always so good at not letting it show. Like our mother, he was so good at being there for everyone around him without asking for a single thing in return. But now, he looked far too exhausted to even try to hide how miserable he felt, and I was left feeling sorely ashamed of myself, hating the fact that I couldn’t seem to control the onslaught of words that tumbled from my mouth when I was drunk. 

“What’s really going on here, Tay?” I pressed quietly, struggling to keep my voice under control.

When he didn’t respond right away, I slipped into my second out-of-body experience of the night. 

A gust of wind howled outside like a sad, beseeching cry for help, throwing the shutters against the side of the house in a show of violent protest, but I barely heard a sound. My thoughts were spinning through my head at an alarming rate and building to a deafening crescendo, reducing everything else to background noise. 

“They ran a cardiac CT scan and MRI this morning,” he responded after what felt like an eternity.

I blinked several times and waited for him to laugh, or at least crack a smile. I needed him to do _something_ to reveal that he hadn’t meant any of it, that it was all just a sick and twisted joke. 

But the laughter never came. 

He shifted his gaze to the window, his mouth set in a straight line, a look of genuine sorrow framed by the faint glow of moonlight in the distance.

“There’s something wrong with my heart,” he said.


End file.
